The Flight to Redemption:The Phantom of Luxembourg
by Angelwrath
Summary: After the Phantom frees Christine and Raoul in the Opera house, shortly after Don Juan and the fallen chandelier, he leaves Paris and everything he knows behind him. The most interesting part of Erik's life jouney is about to begin.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: Authors Message**

This is a sequel to the ALW Movie, first and foremost. That fine movie was the inspiration that led to a creative awakening within me. I hope you enjoy this tale, because it was a labor of love, constructed over many months. As the story progressed, elements of Leroux and Kay were added to bring depth and complexity to the story. The story in this form is an extensively reworked version of the Phantom of Luxembourg, presented as it was written, chapter by chapter onto the POTO website. I became a storyteller with this tale, staying true to the muse within my head, despite some misgivings. This work is my baby. I thank my beta-readers for their invaluable assistance and loving support. I thank my devoted and consistent readers for their constant words of praise that kept me going. You know who you are. I love you guys…

**Chapter One:**

The torch flamed up in the path behind the broken mirror. Slowly, the burning wood revealed the unmasked, tear streaked face of Erik, the Phantom, his pained expression reflecting the gloom permeating the stone walls around him. He stood as if paralyzed for a moment, devastation making his insides quake, struggling to find some strength, some will to actually move. He stumbled up through the sliding stone wall, taking a path that would eventually lead to the outside world.

Erik climbed with difficulty, a broken man. Feeling along the cold, damp wall, he grabbed the cloak, mask and full purse he had stashed in a crevasse in the wall for such instances. He pulled himself up through a trap door into a corridor. This was his secret entrance to the labyrinth, and only he knew the way out. As he walked away from the lair, away from his cursed life, the only life he knew, he heard the screams of hatred. The angry mob behind him was calling for his demise. He treaded heavily, hands scraping along the rough, dark walls for the clues to the path out. It took great effort for him to drag himself through the dark, winding corridors. His mind was in a shambles, memories of the occurrences of the last day repeating in his mind, eating away at his soul. At the last turn before the exit of the shadowy maze, his drive to go on vanished. He collapsed onto his hands and knees on the floor of the cold, lonely corridor, sobbing deeply.

_I have never felt so truly alone, so utterly hopeless. My heart is shattered, broken into as many pieces as the mirrors I just smashed. I hate this face, this horrible face that destroys any chance at a semblance of a real life. I hate myself, what I have become. I will never be able to touch, to hold Christine ever again. Will I ever be that close to love ever again? I must accept it; I can never, will never be loved. I can never return to this cold dungeon I called home. Will I ever be able to bring myself to sing or write music ever again, my only source of joy? Why in hell did I set the opera house on fire, the place I shed my own blood, sweat and tears to build?_ _Why am I such a wretched devil?_

His tortured cries echoed in the loneliness of the labyrinth. He suffered a moment of madness. Or was it clarity?

_I should just put out this flame now and lay down in my defeat. It is right for me to perish this way, alone in the dark, this place as my crypt. I deserve it_. _I welcome death, but only if only it will stop this pain. I know that the flames of hell await me. __Oh God, please, I beg you, remove from the earth this horrible, putrid creature you created. For once, have pity on me._

He slammed down the torch and sunk face down on the cold, wet ground in anguish, the scent of death and decay strong in his nostrils.

PING

A noise echoed in the silence and took hold of him, dragging him away from his spiraling despair. Wiping away the tears so he could see, he lifted up the now barely lit torch and crawled in the direction of the noise. He found it sparkling in the dark corridor, lying on the edge of a step, shining brightly in the dim torchlight: the ring.

While he was writhing in his agony, he had dropped it. It had rolled down the gentle slope, dropping onto a ledge, creating the noise that captured his attention. He reached over and picked it up, putting it on the little finger of his left hand. He sat back against the cold stone wall, staring at it in the dim light. With a dirty finger he stroked the jeweled band of gold. This ring had just been on Christine's hand, just for a moment, as a symbol of her devotion to him.

_She was my betrothed, if for only a fleeting instant. She had accepted my evil proposal, but, I could not let her. Her love was not mine. All the rage in my heart could not make me look past that obvious fact. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to see her again, someday, just for a moment, just for an instant. Maybe that could be enough._

He pressed the ring up to his lips, remembering clearly that undeniably beautiful kiss. The tears came again. Somewhere, deep inside, the will to go on awoke once more. He composed himself as best he could.

He placed his skin colored mask over his face, the one he used when veiled by the darkness of night to exist outside the opera house. Wrapping himself up in his hooded cloak, he walked up to a brick wall. He pushed on it with his shoulder and a section of the wall turned like a revolving door. He slid out to an alleyway, applying just enough pressure to return the secret doorway back into its rightful position. He broke the mechanism so that no one, not even him, could enter or leave this way ever again. Silently, he moved with his usual stealth, a shadow in the darkness until he reached the stables. The area was quiet, and seemed untouched by the chaos in the theatre. The horses were still there, everyone else either in the main part of the opera house, or trying to get away from the flaming building. He quickly saddled up his favorite stallion; a dark, powerful horse named Caesar; the same one he used to carry Christine not so long ago.

The phantom rode fast through the bedlam of the Parisian streets. Distressed folk gathered around the opera house, seemingly the whole city out in the night air chattering about the 'great disaster'. His dark shadow riding past them did not even attain a glance. He rode out of the city of Paris and into the countryside to the northeast of the city. The hooded man rode hard and fast in the moonlit night, along well traveled paths, like a man pursued by the devil himself. He attempted to clear his mind and hold back the cries of despair from his aching throat as he rode. To feel some relief from the pangs of grief within him, he concentrated on the tempo of the hooves beating on the earth and the noisy panting of the stallion as he galloped.

All sense of time was lost until the gentle glow of dawn. Buried in deep his thoughts, he was oblivious to it at first.

_I had to let her go. That was the best way to show my love for her. _

By this point, the stallion was trotting, shaking his head and snorting loudly, complaining. Looking out from his foggy inner world, Erik spied a stream in the woods and took a turn off the path to lead the thirsty, tired horse to water. He bent over to wash his hands and splashed some of the cool water on his face. Scanning the surroundings, he saw a small cave-like rock formation on the hill.

"We'll stay there for the day, Caesar. We should travel only at night, tired one," he said to the horse, stroking its neck and offering it some oats from the saddlebag. Travel to where he did not yet have a clue.

In the days that followed, Erik rode on, beyond familiar locations, over low hills and past many small villages. He hid in the thick, bright woods during the day, and stopped for food only when pangs of hunger and the threat of starvation demanded it. They stopped at dark, noisy inns where his hooded figure would not seem out of place. An extra coin always bought silence, and he would take the food and drink quickly and leave quietly. Years of learning how to be a shadow kept him hidden. The daylight in which he was now hiding mocked his inner darkness. He was a man possessed with sorrow, with no set destination. Carefully, he rationed his money and supplies, knowing they would eventually run out. He did not have the mental energy to design a plan for his future just yet. Sleep was fitful, his nightmarish dreams filled with regret. The music within him was painfully silent.

On a particularly cold night, he checked in late at a rooming house, paying off the innkeeper so that he would not be questioned until the following night. In the weak light of a lantern he cleaned himself, washed his clothing, and trimmed off the facial hair that had grown. Unmasked, he looked into the mirrored glass on the wall. The mirror showed a more slender man than he remembered, his deep set green-grey eyes, sad and stony above hollowed cheeks. His grotesque scar was the only hint of color on the face in the mirror.

_How long has it been? _He wondered, lying back in the hard bed. His sad eyes closed.

_I'll think of something tomorrow._ He drifted off to sleep as the sun peeked through the window shade.

It was a beautiful blue skied day, as Erik gazed on a meadow filled with flowers. There, running in the field was a bright eyed little girl with beautiful golden hair and a white lacy dress. There was a sweet voice singing a melody in the breeze. The little girl laughed and ran up to a woman with long, dark curly hair. The woman scooped up the little girl and as they turned, he saw it was Christine. The two beauties ran frolicked in the meadow as he watched in awe. Suddenly, the sky drew dark and both the little girl and Christine turned to face him.

"A monster!" The girl screamed out in terror, pulling on Christine's arm "Run, Mother, run!" Christine looked at him with ferocious anger.

"Get away from me you beast! Go back to hell where you belong!" Christine picked up a rock and hurled it towards him. In midair it turned into a dagger that plunged deep into his chest. He gasped as he looked down, seeing the blood pour from his chest. There was so much blood. He stumbled and fell onto his knees. He looked up, as hot tears spilled over onto his cheeks to find Raoul standing over him, sword in hand.

"Leave us alone!" growled Raoul, as the arm holding the sword bore down on him. His world went dark.

Erik woke up in a cold sweat, shaking from his nightmare. He sat still for a few minutes to pull himself together mentally. His dreams were becoming more realistic, violent. The sleep he needed was becoming torture to attain. Through the window, he saw it was dark yet again. He pulled himself up, and slowly, eventually hegot dressed. In the hazy evening's glow, he stumbled down to the bar at the Bellows Inn and ordered something to eat. He sat staring at the bar blankly, mired in his despair, not noticing the two men in a dark corner that were studying him.

"Look there­, a gentleman about town all by his lonesome." The small, wiry man whispered to his burly companion. The burly man turned around, and turned back, nodding.

"Did you see his purse as he passed us? It seems a wee bit heavy to me. And that ring on his hand; he must be some one important," he whispered back, "or at least wealthy." The smaller man signaled for the burly man to come closer.

"Don't you think it is a bit dangerous to travel alone in these woods? One could get mugged if one is not careful," the smaller man said with an evil giggle.

"Quiet man!" He said, punching the smaller man in the arm. He leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear. "I'm suddenly feeling lucky tonight. I think a windfall is in my future…and I'm not even playing cards," said the burly man with a low cackle.

"I see you are reading my mind, mate. Heh, heh, drink up!" They knocked glasses and continued to talk about their plans, a warm welcome for the unsuspecting stranger, in hushed voices.

The inkeeper was a stocky man named Mason. Standing at the bar after serving his silent, hooded guest, he gave the men in the corner a glare.

_Those two are nothing but trouble._Mason thought, eyeing the two men with suspicion.

He allowed his silent guest at the bar to eat in peace, sensing the man was not interested in idle chatter. The man finished quickly and left a generous tip. The two men at the table in the corner got up abruptly and walked out of the bar shortly after the man in the hood left.

"What the hell are they up to?" Mason said to himself, looking out the window after the two unsavory characters.

Erik got on his horse and headed off down a quiet, dark road, at an easy gallop. The trees were tall, partially obscuring the night sky. Little pinpoints of light were set against dark leafy boughs. Erik looked up for a brief moment, drawn by the simple splendor of the night.

_The stars are quite beautiful. They sparkle like the candlelight, shining in her eyes. Ugh! I have to stop this._ He thought, getting angry with himself for allowing Christine's memory to posses his thoughts endlessly. He then returned his attention to the business of trying to see the darkened road.A short while into the trip, he spotted a carriage heading his way. As he passed the carriage, he nodded a greeting to the driver.

"Good night." said the driver, a tall, strong, middle aged man named Nate. He tipped his hat to the hooded stranger. _Cleric, maybe? _he wondered, taking note of the solemn tone of the man within the hood, catching just a glimpse of thelower part ofhis faceas he passed.

"Wait, Sir," he said, halting the carriage. Erik stopped his horse and turned to face the carriage driver, sensing no malice.

"The road ahead is dark and lonely, fellow traveler. These woods can be full of mischief. It would be a good idea to keep your wits about you and get into the open road as soon as possible, about two miles down the way. And, oh…God Bless." Nate said with a smile and a bowed head. _I think that is the appropriatething to say to say to a priest. _

"Thank you for the warning, my good man. I will take heed. And, God Bless to you too." said Erik, a little puzzled at the blessing

_You do not know how right you are, kind sir. My road is indeed dark and lonely._ He thought as he rode along, quickening his pace.

A little further along the same dark road, Nate spotted two men on horses trotting towards him quickly, slowing down as they approached the carriage. Unlike the previous traveler he encountered, these men made his hair stand on end, and fired up his defensive instincts. He pulled the knife he wore around his middle to the front so its handle would be visible to them. Nate glared at them with a warning in his eyes as they rode silently past him. He lashed the reins and made the horses take off. He looked back a minute later to make sure the men were not on his tail. A small window in the front of the carriage opened.

"Hey, Nate, what was that all about?" said Jacque, a young manservant.

"Nothing, just a couple of evil spirits passing by. They're gone now." They rode on in silence until the small window opened up again

"Are we nearly there?" Jacque complained.

"Yes, I see the Bellows up ahead in the distance." Nate smiled at the open window, laughing at the childishness of this young servant. Just for a second, he looked back along the dark road and wondered if those men would pose any danger to the cleric traveling ahead of them. A little disturbed, he led the carriage into the inn, pulling up the horses to the trough to have a drink before the last leg of the trip, their return home. Nate walked into the Bellow's Inn to greet an old friend of his, the innkeeper, Mason.

Erik returned quickly to his quiet inner world of turmoil after his brief encounter with the carriage. The darkness of the path was actually comforting to him. He could be sad and alone in peace. He began to ruminate about what he could do in the future. Again he was a man without a home, without purpose, without anyone to care if he lived or died. The instinct of survival was the only thing to keep him meandering upon this earth, constantly alone. It gave him little reason to expend the effort necessary to keep going. He thought about becoming a hermit in the mountains. The problem is and always was that he was a creative soul that craved, needed some type, any form of human interaction to survive. He desperately wanted to dwell among people; but society would not let him, he had been ostracized at every turn, his frightful appearance scaring away most of them. His bitterness and inability to control his temper got rid of the rest who dared to try and keep his acquaintance.

"Yah!"

The silence of the darkness was shattered by the sound of hooves and horses being whipped into a fast run behind him. He spun around and saw two dark riders heading towards him. He kicked Caesar with his heels and the horse took off down the road, as if it knew the danger they were facing.

It was too little too late; the riders behind him were at a full gallop. They caught up with Erik within a few strides. One of the men grabbed his cloak and yanked Erik violently off the horse. He felt himself fly through the air and land with a sickening crunch on the road, rolling in the dirt. He was only peripherally aware of the pain ripping along the right side of his chest. He tried to get up, but his right leg buckled under him, his lower leg broken. The two men wasted no time, jumping off their horses and attacking him. Erik, being inhumanly strong, was able to wrestle the man from behind him, smashing his face with the back of his head and whipping him over his shoulder. He kicked the other man in the stomach with his good leg. The two men then pounced on him at the same time. One held him from behind and the other one pummeled him with fists in his face and stomach, knocking his mask off to the side of the road. He then felt a sharp pain in his head and the world faded to black…

The burly man threw down the club he had used to knock out the stranger, and both robbers stopped, bending over for a minute to catch their breath.

"God damn, he fights like a lion." said the burly man holding his stomach where he got kicked.

"He got me in the mouth!" Said the smaller man, wiping blood from a busted lip. He kicked the crumpled body in his anger. There was no response. The burly man turned the stranger over and rummaged around for his purse, which he found laden with coin.

"Here's the booty!" he laughed. Leaning over the still man he grabbed at the blood soaked hair and lifted it up. He jumped back when he saw Erik's face.

"What hells work is this? He's a freak! Look here! The Devil's mark on his face!" The smaller man looked over.

"What an ugly thing! Leave him here on the road. No doubt he'll be dead by morning." The smaller man stripped off Erik's cloak with some effort.

"I could use a new coat" said the burly man, grabbing the cloak with a guffaw. The smaller man growled in defeat.

"Fine, But I want that ring!" The smaller man knelt down and started to try to pull the ring off the man's finger.

Erik awoke suddenly, his entire body in pain. He felt someone pulling at his hand where Christine's ring was. He came to his senses; he would die before letting anyone take it.

"No!" he yelled, starling the man in front of him. He pushed the small man over and jumped at his throat. The smaller man still had a hold of Erik's finger, which he bent back and broke. Erik let out a blood curdling scream and punched the man hard with his other hand, smashing his face.

"Get him! get him!" screamed the smaller man until Erik's grip grew tight around his neck. The man's eyes bulged, and he struggled in vain. Erik tightened his grip, looking darkly into the little man's eyes as his life leaked away.

The burly man had been mounting his horse when Erik awoke. He ran and got the club, returning to try and free his friend from Erik's grasp. He bludgeoned Erik again and again. He was able to plant a few good blows, but they did not render Erik unconscious this time. Erik whipped around and grabbed the club, pulling the man over to the ground. Erik was fully enraged now, finding the strength to partially stand with the club in hand. His eyes were on fire and he panted like a beast. Both men backed away, scurrying to their horses.

The blows on Erik's head were still ringing in his ears as he fell down to his hands and knees, then onto the ground. Blood was streaming into his eyes and down his face. In the impending darkness he saw the men riding off out of view. Every limb hurt, every breath hurt. He rolled over to look up to the darkening sky as he felt consciousness leaving him. The sky went dark as a shadow came over him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chap 2:

At the Bellow's Inn, Nate and Mason sat at a small table near the bar enjoying a drink and some quiet banter in their native tongue, English. They were old friends, having known each other since they were boys in a small town south of London. Mason and Nate had stowed away to France on the same boat, both of them runaways. They had decided that travel to a strange new country was less dangerous than a lifetime in their abusive homes. At least they had each other.

"It is good to see you again, Nate. Why do you venture out so late tonight, old friend?" said Mason as he offered him a mug. Nate accepted and drank heartily.

"It is all business, Mason. The old man had to tend to an emergency, down the road a ways. I used the excuse that I needed to water the horses for me to get some grog." The two men chuckled.

"You and yours are always welcome here, Nate. If you will be riding through the forest path tonight, just be careful. A couple of no-good fellows were here earlier. I did not like the looks of them, they seemed to be the conniving sort. I am glad they left. I think they headed north, you will be going." warned Mason.

"A big one and a small one?" said Nate.

"Yes, that's right…" said Mason, a little surprised "Downright nasty looking crew."

"I would have to agree with you. I saw them while we were on that road, alright. I nearly pulled my dagger on them." Nate laughed a little uneasily. He suddenly became concerned about the trip home, and thought it best to head out as soon as possible.

"It would be better of you all to stay the night and travel in the morn. I have rooms for you." Offered Mason.

"Thank you, but I know everyone else would like to sleep in their own beds. Well, I best be off then. I have to get the men home. Thanks for the drink." Nate said. The two men parted after a brief handshake. Nate hurried back to the carriage, knocking on the door.

"Are we ready to go then, is everybody aboard?"

"Yes" said several sleepy voices from within. He smiled and went to climb up on the front of the carriage, but paused. He stepped down and opened the door, asking quietly for a pistol from Bruno, the eldest man-servant. Bruno gave him the gun without question, but grasped Nate's arm as he tried to close the door.

"What are you worried about, Nate?" questioned Bruno, who knew Nate as a particularly brave man, not prone to idle worry.

"Ah, just being careful." replied Nate, not wanting to alarm the carriage's inhabitants. Bruno guffawed, but decided he would remain awake and on guard, just in case Nate's instincts were correct. He walked out of the carriage and jumped onto the bench at the back. Looking over his shoulder, Nate glanced back at Bruno.

"Just being careful." Bruno said. Nate smiled, whipping the reins and jolting the carriage forward, heading to the wooded path.

The night woods were unusually still during the trip from Differdange to Capellen. The moon shown through the trees on the dark, dusty road; both men were on the alert, listening closely to every sound. Suddenly, in the distance there were men's shouts, screams, sounds of horses, then silence again. Nate and Bruno looked at each other, both having heard the noise. Nate flicked the reins and urged the horses to move faster. It was well after midnight, and seemingly, the woods were full of treachery.

After traveling for some time down the road, Nate spied the faint shape of a horse in the middle of the road. As he approached slowly, he noted the faint shape of something on the ground. Nate pulled up on the reigns and stopped, and looking around to Bruno. He signaled silently ahead of him. Bruno fetched Jacques quietly out of the carriage, whispering for him to stand guard in the back of the carriage while Nate went to investigate the horse and mound blocking their path in front.

As he approached the horse it snorted and stomped its front hooves, obviously irritated. He approached the mound at the foot of the horse slowly, and after looking at it intently he realized it was a man, but the man was still and silent. He brought the lantern he was carrying closer for examination.

"Holy mother!" he said, as he saw the blood stained shirt and trousers, and the matted bloody head.

"What is it Nate?" asked a concerned Bruno, lifting up his pistol.

"It's a man! Badly beaten, I see. I can't tell if he's dead or alive." He gently nudged the man with no response. "I think it's the cleric…" he said to himself.

"The who?" Said Bruno, as he inched forward towards Nate.

"Never mind." Nate said. Nate put down the lantern and, as he had been taught, reached up to the man's neck and felt a faint pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness. He lives, at least for now. Poor wretch. Bruno, I think the good Doctor should come and have a look." Nate said. Bruno had been inching forward, and was standing at his side by that point. Bruno nodded and quickly rushed back to the carriage.

After a few quiet words, Dr. Conrad Dyson, the Earl of Mamer, stepped from the carriage. He was a tall, distinguished, older gentleman who carried himself with grace. He moved quickly, walking towards the men in the road, who were kneeling around the injured man. He was still a little groggy, having been in a deep sleep in the carriage. As he knelt next to the crumpled man, he grabbed the wrist and felt for a pulse. He found a weak one. Curious, knowledgeable eyes surveyed the devastation.

"He is still alive. By the looks of it, not for much longer, unless we do something." He could not discern much in the dim light of the lantern. He directed the men to fetch a stretcher from the carriage. Under the physician's watchful eye, the men gently placed the stranger on the stretcher and carried him into the carriage. In the slightly brighter light of the carriage, experienced hands and eyes began to take note of the damage.

"Big gash on the head, but no breaks in the skull…probably end up with a hell of a concussion. This arm is broken, and this leg is broken. Good lord, he even has broken ribs. Who the hell did this?" He said, worry growing within him. After tying a tourniquet around a bleeding wound on the leg, his hands moved up to feel the man's neck, and he pushed away the bloody hair, revealing his face.

"Oh my…" he said, noting the malformed face with curiosity.

Outside, Nate soothed the horse, and in a few minutes, was able to mount it. He spoke gently into the horse's ear.

"Good boy. You saved your master tonight, faithful one. We would have run him over." He patted the dark, graceful neck. "I'll give you some oats once we get home. Bruno, I'll ride this horse back to Capellen." Nate shouted back. Bruno jumped into the driver's seat of the carriage. He turned and looked through the little front window.

"To the infirmary then, Doctor?" Bruno asked.

"No, I'm afraid he may not make it that far." Dr. Dyson said, pressing hard on a bleeding wound on the stranger's head. "Let us go home. We will have to tend to him there. And have Nate fetch my daughter. I will need her help."

"Yes Sir!" Said Nate, hearing the Doctor's orders. He wasted no time galloping ahead of the carriage down the dusty road.

In a neat house on Capellen manor, Elaine Dyson was still awake that night, her texts piled high in front of her, covering the entire front of her desk in the library. She sat at under a bright light, her hazel eyes sleepy, pouring over the words of her latest assignment. She sighed and leaned back briefly, deciding it was time to finally get to bed. She stood up and stretched, her dark blonde hair tumbling down around her robed, slender shoulders.

"It will be a good day tomorrow." She said, smiling as she gazed at the moon. She would work with her father at his home office in the morning. She turned off the lamp and walked slowly out of the library, shutting the books as she left.

_Oh, so many studies. I have so much still left to learn. I don't know why I continue to torture myself like this, that dream has passed. Really Elaine, you could be just an idle countess. _She laughed at herself, knowing she could never just sit idle. Ever.

It was her own idea to try to follow in her father's footsteps, to become a physician. She had already disappointed him once, she would never disappoint him again. Elaine sighed, and walked into her son's room on the way to her bedroom. She checked on him with a mother's silent step, and feather light touch. The sound of hooves outside and a knock at the door startled her. She exited quickly, closing the door to Roland's room, so he would not be disturbed. Adele, the matron of the house, rushed to the door, opening it to find her husband Nate.

"What is the matter at this hour?" she questioned, worried.

"I need to speak to Lady Elaine." Nate said, giving his wife a brief hug. Elaine had already run down the hall and was descending the stairs.

"What is it Nate?" Elaine asked… "Has something happened to Father?"

"Come with me my Lady, your father requests your help, with an injured man." Both women briefly breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged looks of concern. Elaine ran back up to her room and quickly got dressed.

"Where are you taking him?" Asked Adele, hugging her husband.

"They are bringing him to the house now." He said kissing his wife's forehead, "He is gravely injured. I do not know if we will be successful with this one. I'll be back later, love."

"How awful!" Adele said. Elaine rushed past her.

"Adele, please keep an ear out for Roland. I don't know when we'll be back." Elaine said, following closely behind Nate.

"Of course my lady, don't worry about a thing." Comforted Adele, closing the door behind them.

At the manor house, the man-servants brought the injured stranger directly into the surgical room, located in the extension off the manor house that was his office. Jacques went to retrieve the head maid, Marjorie, who was the nurse. After the men deposited the limp, lifeless form on the table, Dr. Dyson began to remove the bloody, dirty clothes. Marjorie entered, surveyed the situation quickly and started to light the lamps in the room. Dr. Dyson laid a blanket over the injured man as he turned to wash his hands in a nearby basin.

"Go now, Marjorie, boil some water please, I need lots of clean water. Bruno, fetch me a stack of clean cloths and bandages. Nate, please bring me the surgical kit and needles, and some splints. There is much work to do..." The servants ran off, each with his own duty. Now alone in the well lit examination room, Dr. Dyson paused briefly to look at the man's face again, which he had kept hidden from the servants. He had wanted to examine the face closely. The left side of his face was normal, save a few scrapes and bruises. The right side was misshapen, the skin thickened, creased in places with a reddish discoloration. A gash in the cheek was actively oozing.

"Blood runs close to the skin here. Hmm. This could be a big birthmark of some sort. An awful one at that." he said to himself, applying pressure to the wound. He was fairly certain that the malformation was indeed no infection they need be concerned about.

Elaine entered into the surgical room. Her face turned to shock when she saw the man lying on the table covered, save his blood soaked head. She looked over at the bloody clothing on the floor. Her father looked up.

"Thank you for coming Elie." He said, pointing to the bowl on a low table. Elaine nodded, pushing up her sleeves.

"What happened?" She asked as she scrubbed at her hands and pulled an apron over her dress.

"We found him left for dead on the road between Differdange and here. He must have been attacked, he is wounded badly. He is unconscious for now, but alive. He seems to be a fairly young, strong man, but he may yet succumb to his wounds. Quick, we need to clean and fix all these wounds, and we have some bones to set before he comes to."

Father and daughter worked tirelessly through the night on the unfortunate stranger.

After washing and repairing the scalp wounds, Elaine picked up a bowl of warm water and started to clean off his face.

"Father, what happened here?" She said, cleaning off the disfigured side of the face first, touching it gently. Elaine did not even flinch at the sight of the stranger's face. She was long immune to being squeamish to these sorts of things.

Dr. Dyson was a respected, world renowned physician, and Elaine was the tomboy daughter who had who tagged along everywhere her father went as he visited patients from a very tender age. She had joined him when he went to spend long weeks at the Leper colonies, getting to know the people and children there. It was there where Elaine learned about the cruelty of alienation and the healing power of compassion. She knew her calling then, but had a difficult time convincing her father that she was sure of her it since that time. She wanted to be the first woman physician in Luxembourg. But the road had been anything but easy.

"Was this some kind of awful burn, you think?" She said, gently wiping the stranger's face.

"No, I don't think so. He probably has had that malformation since birth. See how it affects the shape of the cheekbone." The doctor replied, examining the left forearm and hand. A blood streaked sparkle shown from his hand.

"This is a woman's ring, is it not?" he said, holding up the stranger's limp arm for her to see. Elaine nodded.

"Yes, I think so. It looks like an engagement ring." She said, abandoning her post and going to take a closer look. The little finger was dislocated and becoming swollen.

"If we don't get this off, he will lose this finger." With Elaine holding traction, he relocated the finger at this the stranger moaned weakly, moving slightly as the doctor used soapy water to slide the ring off. He put it in his coat pocket.

"Ah. That is a good thing, he reacts to pain. He may have a shot at living after all. Quick, we must set his other breaks while he is still unconscious." While they were setting the break in his arm, he let out a raspy yell. As her father splinted the stranger's arm and finger, Elaine fetched Nate to assist with setting the broken leg.

"Hold him down now…" Elaine held down his shoulders while Nate and her father struggled with his leg. With a grinding noise, the last bone was set. The pain startled the man; his eyes flew open and he grabbed at Elaine's arm. She stared into his eyes, holding him tightly as his blank stare melted back into unconsciousness.

_What beautiful green eyes..._she thought.

The stranger mouthed a word as she looked closely. She could not make out what he said. He then started to shake, his skin becoming clammy and pale. His body felt cold. She felt for the pulse in his neck.

"Father! His pulse is very weak." Her father looked up, having finished with splinting the leg. He shook his head, worried.

"He has lost a lot of blood I think. All we can do is wait and pray." He spread the wool blanket on the man.

"Does he need blood?" said Nate, breaking the silence.

"It could help. But, no." said the Doctor. "Nate, I know what you are trying to suggest. We have been lucky. You know it is very dangerous, for him and you."

Transfusions were a new procedure, they often ended in death for the person receiving the blood and weakness for the donor. Nate had successfully donated to three critically injured patients in the past with no ill effects to either party.

"I could give him some blood, no one has ever gotten sick with my blood." Nate insisted.

"Nathaniel. I cannot waste it on a man who will probably die anyway!" Said Dr. Dyson, looking at the pale face of the stranger. Elaine pulled the wool blanket up higher.

"Father, if it is his only chance…" She insisted.

"Please Dr. Conrad, I am being selfish. I feel responsible for what happened here." Nate started to say.

He went on to tell the Doctor about his meeting with the stranger on the horse and then the two dangerous men he spotted on the road.

"Please, let me give him a fighting chance. I feel I owe him." The physician scowled but nodded in agreement.

"Very well then. Lie down, Nate. I can't fight both of you." He acquiesced.

Soon warm blood was flowing into the stranger's cold arm. Nate turned to the stranger, noting the facial malformation with curiosity.

"I guess we are blood brothers now, hey cleric?" he said. After the transfusion, the servants assisted with moving the man to a small bedroom in the house on the second floor, relatively close to the medical office. Father and daughter sat for a moment in the bedroom, watching the man intently.

"I'll stay here with him tonight. Just in case he wakes up. He will be quite disoriented, and may hurt himself if he tries to move." said Elaine.

"I doubt he will." said the tired physician. "But do as you like, Elaine. I am going to bed." He walked over and placed a blanket around his daughter's shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"You were fantastic tonight, my dear. We have done our best for him, of that I am certain. The rest is out of our hands." He said.

She smiled and shut the door to keep in the heat after her father left. Walking up to the stranger in the bed, she laid a hand on his forehead gently. He was warmer now. She breathed a sigh of relief and uttered a short prayer for the sick. She laid down on a nearby chaise lounge and drifted off in a light sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For the next week, Elaine kept a vigil in the stranger's room. Dr. Dyson had to be away for most of the week, returning intermittently to check on his strange, private patient. The stranger remained largely unaware of his surroundings in a semi-comatose state. Mainly at night, he stirred but did not awaken. He writhed and had fits, moaning and groaning. He was like a man traveling through hell.

After two days, the fevers came. The stranger's body shook with the rigors of blood poisoning. His skin grew pale, and he breathed shallow, teetering on the edge of death. Elaine diligently attended to him. She cleaned him, changed his dressings, and mopped his face and chest with cold water during his fevers. His body poured with sweat each time the fever broke. Elaine prayed that his suffering would end, somehow.

During one if his restless fits, his eyes opened, glassy grey-green eyes that looked through her, try as she did to get his attention. He babbled incoherently in French but she was able to understand few words.

"Christine, please, my Christine." he said weakly, his lips barely moving.

"What is it? Please wake up!." Elaine said, to no avail. She force-fed him water and a nutritious porridge that her father had concocted until his unconscious refusals were too strong by the fifth day. She could only hope that he would awaken soon, or else he would surely starve.

Her son, Roland, came often to see his mother at the stranger's room in the manor house, because Elaine rarely left the stranger's side during this time. Roland was a curious and sensitive boy, about 7 years old. He used to help his mother bring in the clean linens and bandages, then he would go and play with the music boxes that lined the shelves in the stranger's room while his mother tended to the man's injuries. His grandfather collected music boxes from wherever he traveled, as a tribute to his late wife, Clemencia, who had died after giving birth to Elaine.

Roland walked over to the bed while his mother worked. With the curiosity of a child he crawled on the bed and looked closely at the stranger's face.

"Mother, what happened here? It looks scary." he said. Elaine was working on the stranger's lower leg wound and looked up to see her boy staring at the man's face. She scooped him up and carried him out of the door into the hallway.

"Good lord Roland, how could you say something so rude!" She was so angry. Her anger melted when she looked down at the boy, who was now scared and confused by her actions. She sat him down on a bench in the hall and hugged him.

"You were just being curious." She said, reprimanding herself for being so harsh. Roland looked at her questioningly. Elaine sighed.

"Listen, Roli. The man was probably born with that malformation…a big birthmark." Elaine said, looking down at Roland.

"Does it hurt?" he asked innocently.

"Probably not physically…"she began. Elaine was trying to decide how best to explain this complicated issue to her son. "When people have these deformities, they look different, not like everyone else. Sometimes other people will be mean to them or try to hurt them, just because of how they look. People like this man have their feelings hurt and get really hurt in here," she pointed to his chest "when people treat them badly. Think, how would you feel?" She paused, giving the boy time to take in what she had said. A mature realization came over his young face.

"So…he may have been treated like the leper-people you told me about?" he said. Elaine hugged him.

"Yes, smart boy, yes. So saying what you said, even though he does not appear to be awake…"

"Was not the nicest thing to say. I understand Mother. He does not scare me, you know. I'm a brave knight! I'll protect him!" He brandished his little wooden sword he had tied around his waist and ran back towards the room.

"Oh yes, Sir Roland…" She laughed at his enthusiasm. "I'll be back. I have to get some more supplies." She walked towards the staircase, smiling to herself.

Back in the room, Roland walked in and sat on one of the chairs near the window. He picked up a little music box with a ballerina on it. Winding the key, he listened to the soft music play. At that moment, he heard a movement from the bed. The man was moaning softly. Roland gasped and moved slowly over to the bed, closer and closer. The man's eyes opened slowly, and he squinted, looking around the room.

"Mother, mother!" Roland was so excited that he jumped up and ran out of the door to find Elaine.

The stranger had been awakened by gentle tones that he heard, like a sound that floated to him from a distance. The sound became louder and louder. He became aware of a pounding in his head and pain shooting all over his body. He opened his eyes slowly and looked around to try and figure out where he was. He was in a brightly lit, warm room. Dropping his head back with the pain, he felt a soft pillow behind it. He groaned, trying to move around. His whole body was stiff, and when he tried to stretch and move, he had to stop, groaning in pain as his broken bones punished him for his efforts. He was able to sit up a little and he saw a mirror on the wall in front of him. With shock, he looked into the mirror to find a man with a distorted face, a bandage on the right cheek. He looked away quickly, turning to face the window. To his surprise, he saw a young boy. The boy looked back at him with surprise and ran out of the room, shouting out in a language he did not understand. He looked again at the man in the mirror. He touched the malformed face and pulled off the bandage, looking in horror.

"Oh God…" he gasped, "…that is me!" he said, the realization that it was indeed his face that he was seeing hitting him hard. He could not remember anything.

Seconds later, the door opened and a woman appeared before him. She was a tall, pretty woman with a pleasant expression and soft hazel eyes that grabbed his attention. He blinked as she came into view. Her dark blonde hair was pulled away from her face in a loose bun, and she wore a light colored dress with an apron over it. The lady approached him with a wonderful, sweet smile, speaking to him softly. He knit his brows; he could not understand her.

_Am I supposed to know her? She seems to know me. _He thought. He just sat still, staring at her, spellbound as her slender form seemed to float over to where he lay.

"Monsieur, can you understand me now?" she said in French. He nodded slowly, captivated by her gentle eyes. "My name is Lady Elaine." She said, holding out her hand in greeting.

Suddenly he recalled what he had seen in the mirror, and instinctively he put his hand up to cover the right side of his face. That left him leaning on his left arm, which started to hurt fiercely as he placed his weight on it. He groaned and winced in pain.

"You are safe here." Elaine said, saddened by his actions. She leaned forward and reached out to him, her hand wrapping around the fingers covering his face. "You do not have to hide yourself here, Monsieur."

He slowly allowed her to pull his hand away from his face. Her warm hand squeezed his gently as she smiled at him again, looking directly into his eyes. "Please Monsieur, lay back down." She pushed him back gently into the bed, her soft hands touching his chest. He sank back into the soft bed.

"What happened?" Erik said. "What has happened to me?" he asked, desperation in his tone. He began to cough, and was seized by a pain ripping through his chest.

"Try not to cough too much, you have several broken ribs." Elaine said, holding his hand again, until he quieted down. "You were probably robbed on a road outside of Differdange. It happened almost a week ago now. Since then, you have been here, unconscious." Elaine released his hand and got up to pour a cup of water. She sat back down next to him on the bed, holding his head up gently, helping him to drink.

"You must take the water slowly. Yes, like that. There, this should help with the cough." She fed him the entire cup of water, then rested his head back on the pillow.

"Where am I?" he asked, looking around him intently.

"You are at Capellen Manor, the home of my father, Dr. Conrad Dyson, the Earl of Mamer" he looked at her with a blank expression. "In Luxembourg."

The stranger nodded, but still looked distraught. She paused for a moment, waiting for him to talk. She soon realized he still had no idea where he was.

"And your name is…" She prompted.

"I…I don't know. I can't remember anything. All of my memories…are gone." Said the stranger as he looked at her, eyes full of fear and confusion.

Dr. Dyson had been summoned by his grandson's shouts and was standing by the door, hearing the conversation between the stranger and Elaine. He quickly realized the man was suffering from amnesia due to his head injury. He walked into the door, causing both the man and Elaine to turn around quickly.

"Well, that is a problem." He said, announcing his presence.


	4. Chapter 4

Chap 4

"That is a problem because we don't know who you are either. Good morning Elaine." Dr Dyson said, walkingup to the pale stranger lying in the bed."It is good to see that you have finally regained consciousness. I am Dr. Conrad Dyson. You are here at my home." He shook the man's hand. He spoke in French, like his daughter.

"Hello, Dr. Dyson." The stranger responded, appearing very disoriented. He looked up, intently eyeing the physician standing before him. Dr. Dyson was tall and slim with a slender face, his eyes a bright blue. His features were similar to, but more pronounced than Elaine's, his skin wrinkled with the ravages of time. The age revealed by his face did not match his youthful movements. The physician started to walk around the bed as the stranger's eyes followed.

"You sustained several blows to the head, Monsieur. I think what you are suffering from now is amnesia, a loss of memory, common with head injuries. You also have a broken arm and leg, and broken ribs which will make it difficult to take deep breaths and move around much, but you must do both to get well. You lost a lot of blood, for which you received a transfusion last night. You are terribly lucky Monsieur. Had we not found you that night, well, you would not be having a conversation with anyone but your maker now. I honestly was not sure you would live despite our best efforts. But, thanks to Elaine's good work, and the grace of God, you are here."

The man in the bed looked shocked and overwhelmed. He looked at Elaine.

"Thank you…thank you both. I don't know what to say." He said. Elaine smiled and rubbed his hand. He looked down at her hand, surprised at how easily she touched him, and how intense her touch felt. She rose from the bed, going to the table to pour him some more water. Dr. Dyson, now looking out of the window, continued to speak.

"Let us piece together whatever information we can, shall we? You speak French, with a Parisian accent if my hearing is correct. So you lived in France, probably from a very young age. He found you on a road going northwest from Differdange, near the border of Luxembourg. Can you recall anything at all about where you were headed?" The stranger looked down and tried to think, but the effort made his head pound.

"It hurts to think, Doctor. No, I cannot recall anything at this time." He winced and covered his eyes.

"Very well, Monsieur. You must stay here to convalesce for at least 6 more weeks; to ensure the proper healing of your injuries. By that time, hopefully, your memories would have returned to you. Your only responsibility right now is to listen to everything we tell you, and to get better." Said Dr. Dyson, smiling.

The stranger looked pensive. Sitting up, he saw his deformed countenance again in the mirror. He looked away quickly, a shot of dread finding root in his chest.

"Doctor, I must ask you, what happened…with my face?" he said, touching it. Dr. Dyson followed where the man had looked before; to the gilded mirror on the wall immediately opposite the bed. He looked down and sat on the bed next to the stranger.

_Good Lord, not only has he lost his identity, he does not even remember his deformity. What a hell of a thing to wake up to._

"I am not sure, but I believe it is a of birth mark of some sort. You have probably had that deformity on your face all your life." The stranger just looked down, visibly uncomfortable with this revelation. He shook his head.

"Thank you so much, for everything. How can I repay you for your kindness?" He said, looking back upat Dr.Dysonand Elaine.

"Thanks is sufficient, Monsieur." The doctor took out his stethoscope and started to examine the man. "Now that you have awoken, we may be able to give you some medicine to ease your pains. But it may make you a little confused and drowsy."

"I would prefer to not feel more confused than I already am. If the pain becomes unbearable, maybe then I will require some medicine. Until then, no thank you." The doctor nodded back at him, continuing his examination, provoking low groans from the man each time he moved or touched him. Dr. Dyson was surprised at how quiet the man was for the amount of discomfort he knew he was producing. After a few minutes had passed, the man again looked puzzled.

"If my memory is gone, completely gone, how can I speak?" Queried the man. "Would not the memory of learning how to talk be gone too?" The doctor smiled.

"One thing we do know about you by that question is that you are an intelligent man, Monsieur. Let me explain what I know about this…amnesia you are inflicted with. There are activities that are etched into our brains, like how to speak, how to eat, how to walk, write, read; you get the point. Those things do not usually get lost, depending on the severity of the injury. The intangible things such as memory, those thoughts are kept somewhere in the brain where they can be temporarily…lost. I must warn you however, some memories may be lost permanently."

"Well, then I will not be able to miss them, will I?" The stranger said, without missing a beat. Dr. Dyson laughed gently.

"Well, now we know you also have logic and wit as some of your attributes as well, Monsieur. See how much we have learned about him already, Elaine?" He said. He then turned to Elaine, who was listening intently.

"You will find out more about amnesia in the psychiatric texts. Consider that your next assignment." He nodded at Elaine. She smiled and nodded in agreement,sitting on the chaise lounge next to the bed. Dr. Dyson turned back to the man and continued.

"Some memories are so old and so strong that they become etched into our mind; such as one's name, or the name of a loved one. Try to remember your name right now…think very hard, you may remember that first before anything else."

The man closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. The pounding in head increased, but he fought it. Words, names started to formulate within his head. He started to mumble, rubbing his head as he thought. Elaine and Dr. Dyson moved in closer.

"My name is…it starts with an O…no…an E….yes…OE? My initials? No, I don't believe so….Ah!" His eyes opened widely. "I think it is…Erik. I can't think of any other, or a surname."

The doctor froze in his position. He was instantly dragged backwards into his memory.

It was decades earlier. He had gone to visit one of his friends from the medical school in Paris. The man he was meeting with was François Barrett, who specialized in children and the diseases of childbirth. He had been Conrad's teacher first, but they soon became close friends. They met in a quiet café over a bottle of wine. The spoke of pleasantries and work, as they always did. He was a portly gent, with dark eyes above a full, dark beard. His dark hair was peppered with grey, which framed a pleasant countenance.

"You know, Francois, my wife is finally expecting." said a young Dr. Conrad Dyson.

"Really, Conrad? Congratulations are in order. You have been trying for some time now, right?" Said Francois, his face concerned as he poured Conrad some more wine. Conrad smiled at him, but the uneasiness was plain to see. He could not hide his dread from his friend.

"Yes. She just wanted a child so badly, we continued to try. Tina has had several miscarriages; and this pregnancy has been difficult. Truly, I am more concerned for her than for the child." Conrad confessed, drinking the wine.

"Well, may God bless them both with good health." said Francois, trying to lift Conrad's spirits. They raised their glasses in a toast.

"She should give birth in the Clinic, Conrad. You should consider it. I find it funny how some women can bear children so easily, and don't realize what a gift it is." The expression on Francois's face saddened.

"What is on your mind, old friend." said Conrad, noticing the change of heart.

"I must tell you about a case…a patient of mine." said Francois, speaking softly.

"Go on." said Conrad. The other physician sighed heavily.

"As you know, I have worked out in the countryside until recently. It was over two years ago, I think. I was called on by a messenger to visit a, shall we call her 'well-to-do' Lady who had just been through some terrible tragedies. Her husband and parents had recently died. I knew this woman was very near her time of delivery. The midwife had summoned me with some 'terrible news' I was told. When I got to the house, they led me away from the birthing chambers to the servant's quarters. I met with the midwife, who told me that the child was born alive but was very deformed. I was led to the child, sleeping in a small basket. The child was a healthy pink and of a good size and weight. When I unwrapped the swaddling cloth, I saw a dark red, extensive deformity on the right side of the face.

'Devils mark.' The midwife said.

'That is rubbish!' said I, 'it is simply a malformation, nothing evil about it.' On my exam I could find no other problems with the child, Conrad. He was otherwise a strong, healthy boy. She told me that the mother had rejected the child at first glance, and that a maid was trying to convince the mother to reconsider abandoning the child.

'The child appeared so strong, I could not bring myself to kill it. The poor wretch. What kind of life can it have, with that face to haunt his days?' The midwife said.

'That would be murder, my dear woman.' I said, enraged that she would ever consider such a thing.

'Murder or mercy, Doctor?' she said. I sent her off and waited for the maid to retrieve the child. The maid was a darling of a young woman but held the little boy as if he had a disease.

'The mother has agreed to hold it, Doctor. Will it live?' She asked, the question breaking my heart.

'I believe HE will live.' I said. The maid looked at me apologetically and left me to find my own way out.

That same maid brought me the child to examine every few months or so, because I demanded that she do so. They put a mask on the child's face, Conrad, a hateful, hurtful mask. I detested it, I forbade her to make him wear it, but she said the mother would not see the boy without it on. The boy grew big and tall but I could tell was terribly starved for affection. He would cling to me as if I were the only one who gave him a loving hug, touched his face, or smiled at him. He walked before a year old, and Conrad, the child was trying to talk before he could walk! When I saw him when he was about 18 months old, he was very quiet and sullen. I found wounds of severe beatings on the boy, Conrad. What could a child that age, of any age do to deserve those marks? He had the lightest, saddest green eyes. I will never forget them. The sadness I saw in those eyes made me want to beat the maid who brought him to me. But I kept my anger at bay, showing the child a loving face and tender touch. When I tried to remove his mask, he pulled it back on shouting at me.

'No take off mask, bad boy, no!' and ran into the corner. He had learned to be ashamed of himself, to hide himself that young." Francois's voice broke with emotion.

"This is terrible, my friend…what did you do?" Conrad said, horrified by the tale. Francois continued.

"That was the final straw for me. After discussing it, my wife and I had decided that we would take the child under our care; that I would remove him from his home with force if I needed to. I returned several weeks later to the house and was told by the maid that the boy was gone. I do not know what they did with him. I feel that they lied to me. The servants were silent and ignored my questions; they would not let me on the property to search for him. They said the mother could not stand to know he was around anymore, she felt he was a curse, so they sent him away."

François leaned back, his eyes misty.

"Soon after, my dear mother fell ill and we came to the city. I have been caught up with her illness, and have not ventured back there. I fear no good has come to that poor child."

"This story is heartbreaking, François. How could they act that way towards an innocent child?" said Conrad, appalled by the terrible story.

"I will never understand that, Conrad." said Francois as he shook his head. "I cannot help but to think, maybe, just maybe I could have done more for this bright little child. It has been some time now and I am still haunted by his memory. I am cursed with regret."

"You are a good man, and an excellent doctor, François. You cannot cure the ills of a vain society and rescue all the children who need to be rescued." said Conrad, trying to comfort his friend. The men soon got up and walked out to the street. They stood quietly together in the midday sun. Francois shook Conrad's hand and sighed.

"I have been thinking of that boy often as of late. I will like to build a home, an orphanage for children like him. For all the unwanted, sick children. They need a place to go, a place where people will care for them, no matter their disability or deformity. That may help ease my troubled mind. Poor little Erik." He said.

Dr. Dyson came back to the present, looking intently at the man lying in the bed.

_This man, he must be the same person; the age was about right, the deformity is as Francois described…he has to be._

The sun had moved and shone directly on the man that they now knew as Erik lying in the bed. Erik's eyes were a pale green and seemed sad; deeply, painfully sad.

"Father, you were saying…" said Elaine, who walked over and put her hand on her father's shoulder. She was wondering why he had become silent and still for several moments, staring at Erik. The Doctor got up suddenly, and patted Erik on his shoulder.

"Welcome Monsieur Erik. We will take good care of you, my boy. I promise."

Dr. Dyson hurriedly left the room. Elaine walked after him, puzzled by the pace with which he left. Walking back into the room she found Erik trying to block the bright sunlight, shining on his face from the window. She walked over to the window and pulled the drapes just so the light would not fall on the bed. Looking at him, she noticed that Erik's skin was pale, and probably had not seen the sun for some time.

"So, Monsieur Erik, are you hungry? You must be. You have not eaten in a week." She said, straightening the linens on his bed. "Any requests?"

"Yes, Lady Elaine." Erik said, looking up at her. She seemed angelic in the glow of the sun. "Please, just call me Erik. And I am sure I will eat anything you can bring me." He said, suddenly growning aware of the gnawing pain in his stomach.

"I will be right back." she said, smiling widely as she walked to the door. "And Erik, I have a request myself. Please, just call me Elaine." He smiled shyly and nodded. After Elaine left, Erik looked around the silent room, taking note of the details.

On the wooden floors lay rich rugs, the walls covered with delicate tapestries. The room was filled with beautiful, dark furniture, with several tables and chests lining the walls. There were several mirrors along the far wall which brought the light from the window into the room.

On his left was a lounge chair, and there were several ornate chairs surrounding a table by the window. On that table and on many shelves in the room were what looked like music boxes. They were different sizes and ran the gamut from plain to ornate.

Bookshelves packed with books were present along the walls between the tapestries. Beautiful lamps were located throughout the room. A small fireplace and mantle graced the far side of the room, the fire low and inviting. His bed was a four poster bed, and was made with fresh, clean smelling linens. He lifted up the bed sheets and looked down at himself. He was wearing a loose white shirt and loose grey pants, pulled up above a splint on his leg. On his left arm was a splint and bandage that covered his fingers. For some reason he felt concerned about his arm, and he lifted it, his attempts to move his fingers resulting in severe pain.

Erik laid back, feeling very tired; the mental activity had begun to take its toll on his injured brainand his eyes grew heavy. He looked briefly at the ornate ceiling before drifting off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chap 5

Erik did not know when he had fallen asleep, but his eyes opened slowly. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. The bedroom was dark, hazy, and mysterious. Only a few lamps were lit, turned down low, creating an amber glow in the room. He looked over to his left and saw Elaine lying on the chaise lounge, sleeping. He put his head back on the pillow and stared at her, her face glowing softly in the dim light of the room. He became entranced by her sleeping form, her chest rising and falling gently with her breathing. Her hands were wrapped delicately around a small book that was about to fall as her body relaxed with sleep.

_Those hands, those beautiful hands. They are as soft as velvet yet powerful. She is a person who speaks with her gentle touch as well as that soft voice. Every time she touches me, casually or purposefully, my body awakens, as if I had never been touched before. I yearn physically for it._

Even so, Erik felt awkward in her presence; in anyone's presence for that matter. When Dr. Dyson had touched him earlier, he felt nothing but annoyance with discomfort. He was thankful when the examination came to an end. Erik believed these feelings were just part and parcel of the amnesia that Dr. Dyson spoke of.

A cold breeze blew through the sheer curtains, sending the shadows dancing as the flames of the lamps moved. The breeze sent an uncomfortable chill down his back and he instantly felt a pain shoot through his head.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" A cold, low cynical laugh started softly then rose in volume. He looked towards Elaine, alarmed. She still slept undisturbed.

_Did she not hear this foreboding cackle as well? _A shuffling noise arose from a dark corner of the room and an image appeared, the image of a man. It floated out of the shadows, as if being formed by them.

_I must be dreaming this. This cannot be happening. _He thought. The visage of this specter became clearer. It was a tall man with dark hair wrapped in a dark cape. As he came closer, the specter's head rose and the cape parted. On his face was a shiny black mask that covered most of the face above the mouth, except for piercing eyes. A ruffled white shirt was opened revealing part of his chest surrounded by a form fitting black suit. His mouth was in the shape of a twisted little smile that made Erik uneasy.

"How was your slumber?" said the man, in a strangely familiar, melodic growl. Not waiting for a response he walked over to Elaine's sleeping form and knelt down before her, humming a sensual melody.

"Ah, I like this one, too." The man raised a black gloved hand and ran it along her delicate chin, down her languid neck to between her breasts. Elaine only stirred slightly as if disturbed by nothing more than the breeze. Erik struggled to utter a word of warning but no sound came from his lips. He felt paralyzed. The man was aware of Erik's attempts to move, and turned to look at him.

"Why so silent, good Monsieur? You are distraught." The masked specter stood up and walked slowly to the foot of the bed, the cape flapping in the cold breeze. Erik felt himself shiver uncontrollably.

"Don't you recognize me?" The piercing eyes began to glow. With a fluid movement, the man turned, covering himself with the cape and disappearing before Erik's unbelieving eyes. Erik gaze darted around the room, searching for clues as to where the eerie man went. Slowly, Erik was able to rise up from the bed. He looked into the mirror across from him. There was the masked man, sitting on the bed staring back at him…

"Ha, Ha ha, ha, ha !"

Elaine came back to Erik's room with a tray of food. She found Erik sleeping soundly again. She walked closer to him to stir him but thought against it. She rested the tray on the table and she shifted her gaze to the bookshelves. She thumbed through and picked out some books written in French for Erik to read. Sitting down on the lounge, she and opened the first one she had found: The Charterhouse of Parma by Stendhal. After reading the introduction, she closed the book and looked at Erik lying in the bed. From her vantage point, she saw only the left side of his face.

_From this angle, he is actually quite pleasant to look at. Had he not had the misfortune of his deformity on the other side, he would be considered quite a handsome man, I suppose._

Her mind drifted to another time she had looked at Erik quietly like this, several days before he regained his consciousness. Her thoughts were very different then.

Elaine had requested that Nate come to help her to give the stranger, now known as Erik, a more thorough cleaning. His fevers had subsided and she believed him out of danger of death. Even though he was a slender fellow, he was tall and muscular, thus heavy; it was too difficult for her and Marjorie to turn in the soft bed, and change the sheets after a thorough drenching. She was worried that there may be wounds festering where they could not easily see. Nate was happy to oblige, he had wanted to see how the man was doing anyway. Once in the room, Elaine closed the windows so the room would be warm but left the drapes pulled so it would be bright.

"He still looks very pale to me." Nate said, as he set down the bucket of hot soapy water.

"Yes, he has very light skin, but I think that is because of a lack of familiarity with the sun. He definitely has more color now than when he came." Said Elaine, as she set down some linens and wash cloths. "Well, shall we begin?"

"Won't he wake up when we do this?" Said Nate.

"I don't know Nate, but if he does, that would be a good thing." She smiled back.

They rolled him over and in the brightness of the room she inspected the back of his torso, his buttocks and legs. Luckily, no major wounds were there- just a few reddened scrapes and a general pink color from lying in one place for so long. She washed him gently, feeling the muscles under his skin move reflexively in response to the touch of a wet cloth. He had strange ridges running up and down his back, even on his legs.

"What gives you pause, my lady?" said Nate, noting the puzzlement on Elaine's pretty face. He leaned on over to take a look.

All up and down the Erik's back, buttocks and legs were pale, shiny scars. Scars of many, many beatings. Nate suddenly felt angered at the sight. He grew ill at the thought of his own set, badges of pain that he wore silently on his back.

_We are blood brothers in more ways than one, cleric._ He thought, memories of his younger days of despair and pain flooding his thoughts.

Elaine looked up at Nate, whose face, usually jovial, became drawn and dark. His eyes grew cold and angry.

_Certainly, my darling Elaine would know nothing about these dreadful marks_. He thought.

"Those, my lady," Nate said, his voice low with anger, "are from beatings. Whippings, to be precise. And from the looks of it, many bad beatings, from long ago."

Elaine looked up at Nate again. She saw that he knew about these scars. Too well. She realized that he knew about these types of scars personally. He shot her a look of pain then averted his eyes. Elaine had to cover her mouth to hold back the bitter bile that was edging up her throat as the realization sank into her. She had seen the devastation of disease and what that could do to a body, but not often had she seen the scars of abuse. This was indicative of abuse so extensive, the thought of the pain nearly made her faint. She clasped her hands tight, digging her nails into her palm to keep her mind clear.

They stood for a few moments in still silence. Nate suddenly felt naked in front of the woman he thought of as a daughter. More controlled now, he cleared his throat.

"Let us finish with this, Elaline. I have some other things to attend to." She nodded silently and proceeded with the sponge bath. Looking now with knowing eyes, she saw the painful reminders of torture all over Erik's body. There were so many scars.

When they had finished, and Erik was tucked securely in a warm, dry bed, clothed with clean sleeping attire, Nate left without a word. Elaine maintained her silence and distance from Nate in quiet understanding. Slowly, she sat on the bed next to Erik's arm, stroking it tenderly.

_Who did this to you, Sir? What vile being treated you like that?_ Her heart was heavy, a lump securely wedged in her throat. She then picked up Erik's uninjured hand and kissed the masculine fingers, holding them against her face.

"I'm so sorry." She said, a tear leaking from her eye.

Elaine looked back at Erik as she remembered the sponge bath incident. She actually felt a little ashamed of knowing something so personal, so terrible about him. Erik's face then twisted to a frown and he tossed a little. Elaine shook her head.

"What demons keep you from quiet rest, Erik?" She said softly as she approached the bed. She was hoping that his fits during sleep would have ended with his awakening. The unconscious movements were becoming quite violent and she felt that he would wake himself up with the pain of moving his broken limbs.

In the bed, he had started to sweat, so she pulled back his covers and gently tapped on his shoulder.

"No, no, no!" he said with angst as she shook him a little more firmly in order to awaken him. His eyes opened with fear. He grabbed at her hand with his good arm roughly. She let out a gasp of pain. She would definitely be more careful when she awoke him next time.

"Oh, Elaine! It is you." He said, his head dropping back and his eyes softening. He looked apologetically at her as she pulled her arm away and rubbed her hand. "I'm so sorry! Did I…"

"It's alright Erik, please, say no more about it." She interrupted, speaking sternly. Turning away from Erik to go to the table she held her hand and rubbed it again, this time out of view. He really did hurt her, his grip was very strong. She looked down at the indentations his nails left on her arm.

Back in the bed, Erik brought himself up to sitting. Looking at Elaine at the table, Erik's heart sunk as he saw her nursing her arm. Several seconds later, she turned around with a sweet smile upon her face. It only made him feel that much worse…

"I brought you some food, Erik." She said, as she sat on the bed next to him, her hand cradling a bowl filled with something that looked like porridge. "I apologize in advance for the blandness, but we have to make sure your body is ready to accept food before we get too fancy." She smiled, making his heart ache.

"I am sure anything will taste great." He said, now famished. She spooned the warm cereal into his mouth like a child.

Elaine was correct in her judgment. Erik struggled with the first few swallows, but in short order, he finished the bowl. Afterward, she handed him some brown bread with butter which he took thankfully.

_Finally, something solid. _He thought, but soon he was grimacing with discomfort. Even chewing hurt.

"You have to take it slow, Erik. Everything will hurt. You should have seen how badly beaten you were when you first came to us. You looked awful, just terrible…" Elaine halted mid sentence. She bit onto her lip, cursing herself internally for the poor choice of words.

Noticing she had fallen silent suddenly, Erik looked up at her face. Her eyes were avoiding his gaze. He could see in her flushing cheeks that she was afraid that she had offended him. He smiled to himself; he already had figured out that Elaine was far too kind hearted to be talking about anything other than his injuries.

"I know what you meant, Elaine. I take no offense from your words." He said. She nodded, but still avoided his gaze, awkwardly. After a particularly painful swallow, Erik coughed.

"Can I have something to drink?" he asked, between coughs. Elaine practically jumped up and rushed over to give him a drink of some juice. She stayed, rubbing his back firmly until his coughing subsided.

"What was your dream about? If you don't mind me asking." she said, swiftly trying to change the subject. She did not want to seem as if she was tiptoeing around him. He was very intelligent and intuitive, that was easy to see.

"I can barely remember it now. It was probably just a silly nightmare." He said. What he had said was a lie. The man's glowing eyes still burned behind his eyelids, and the evil laugh still echoed in his ears. He just really did not want to talk about it. He would rather strike the memory of it from his brain. It bothered him…he knew the dream probably meant something. What, he did not want to venture a guess at that moment.

"You have been through enough to warrant quite a few nightmares." She said.

She leaned over to retrieve the books she had gathered, brushing his shoulder lightly. He turned to face her, and was met by her scent. She smelled fresh and clean, faintly like flowers.

"I picked out a few books for you to read. These are in French. This room is my father's favorite library, there are many famous literary works in here. There are many other books in French, German, Danish, and English in this library, and we have several other rooms in the house with books. My father believes one should read as much as humanly possible, that it expands your mind and soul like nothing else can. You have them all at your disposal. Oh, and my father has an academic library in his office down below if you are so inclined." She smiled. "I rather like historical novels."

"I'm afraid I don't know what I like just yet." He said, returning her smile. Another lie.  
Elaine reached over his head to grab a tasseled cord and lay it over his headboard. This action brought her even closer to him than before. His eyes closed as he inhaled her sweet scent again. She obviously had no idea how her close vicinity was affecting him.

"When you pull on this cord it rings a bell in the kitchen, somebody will hear it and come to see you." She said. He nodded, but did not like the idea of just 'somebody' coming in to see him. He had grown quite comfortable with Elaine as his contact.

"You will be laid up for a while, with your injuries and all. I will come to see you as often as time permits." She said, standing up and curling up in the chaise lounge next to the bed.

"I would really like that, Elaine." He breathed in deeply. Just her closeness filled him with comfort.

They spent the better part of the afternoon talking, or rather Elaine talking and Erik listening as he finished every scrap of food she had brought. She described the land of the manor and went briefly into the history of their family in the great little land of Luxembourg. Without a memory, Erik did not have much to say at first. That would change.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapt. 6

The next day, Elaine went to visit Erik in the early afternoon after she spent the morning with Roland. Erik had been taking up a lot of her time, and he was also beginning to take up her thoughts. She was surprised to find out from the kitchen staff that Erik had not even called down for breakfast yet. She found it strange that he had not yet awoken. Elaine gathered some food on a tray and brought it with her to his room. A maid came behind her with toiletries and a basin for Erik to clean up with. She knocked gently at the door.

"Erik, good afternoon! Can I come in?" she said, softly. She was surprised at the swift reply.

"Elaine? Yes, yes, please come in!" A voice said from within. She pushed open the door, only to see Erik sitting up comfortably on the bed with his good leg bent and a book in his hand. In the bed, scattered around him were the other books she had picked out the night before. He had obviously been awake for quite a while. His face lit up when he saw her and the tray of food. He smiled and put the book down besides him. He looked shyly at the maid, who rested the basin by his bedside, and left with a curtsey.

"Been busy I see." She said, putting the tray next to him on the other night stand, now devoid of books and within the reach of his good arm. Elaine held the basin as Erik cleaned his face and teeth for the morning.

"Be gentle, Erik, you still have some wounds healing on your face." She said, using the cloth to wipe some blood away from his cheek. Erik closed his eyes as she dried his face gently, the feeling of her soft touch a pleasant difference from his own roughness. He could not believe how easily she touched him, with no reservation. "You must be gentle with yourself." She said with a smile, taking away the basin.

As she walked away, he grabbed a piece of bread, devoured it, and reached back to grab a cup with tea. Elaine smirked at him.

"You know Erik, you can call for someone to bring you something if you feel hungry. You don't have to wait for me to come to see you." She pulled up a chair next to the right side of the bed and sat down, sipping on her own tea. He paused to look at her after he took a drink, mulling over what she said. He looked forward blankly.

He had been trying all morning to do it. He could not look at himself for more than a few moments before the painful ache in his heart made him shut his eyes tight. His reflection taunted him in the mirror in front of the bed. He kept trying to block out the disfigured face he saw before him. His face. He had twisted the sheets silently in anger and despair all morning. How had he lived all his life with this face? He could not imagine how.

When Elaine had looked at him, it was deep into his eyes. Whatever wanderings her eyes did, it did not favor or avoid his gruesome side. He felt normal in her gaze. Her words still echoed in his mind… 'You do not need to hide yourself here.' He felt that he should hide himself. He needed to hide himself from his own eyes.

"I…" he started, giving a frustrated sigh. "How do I put this. I feel uncomfortable calling just anyone to come up to see me..." He put the tea back on the table and continued to eat another piece of bread, avoiding her gaze. It is hard to avoid a topic of conversation when one is the subject. Elaine furrowed her brows.

"Why? They won't mind in the least. They were expecting you to call. After all, they know you can't get up and walk around…" She stopped in mid sentence, sadness coming over her with the realization. He did not call anyone because was ashamed. He did not want anyone to see him. A moment later, he confirmed her suspicions.

"I don't want anyone to have to look at me. I don't want to have to see their reaction." He hung his head. "I can't even stand to look at myself. I don't know how you can…" He stopped himself, a lump growing in his throat. He pretended to be coughing on his piece of bread.

_Damn. Why does every thought in my head just pour out when she is around me?_

Elaine got up slowly and picked up his tea. She handed him the tea, but held on to his hand as he grabbed it. His skin went on fire with her touch. He looked at the soft, warm hand surrounding his own, raising his sad, pale eyes to meet hers. Her eyes were filled with deep compassion. He froze.

_How this strange, awkward man moves me._ She somehow sensed there was more, deeper within him; he simply had to find it again. She smiled gently as she let go of his hand and sat back in the chair. He took a sip slowly.

"The workers at Capellen Manor are very used to seeing human suffering. Everyone has spent some time working with my father in his office here and in the Infirmary in town. You would not be the first unusual looking person…" she started.

"Unusual is not the word that comes to my mind. Elaine, I thank you for trying to make me feel better. The problem is that I have to be able to look at myself before I can expect others to." He desperately wanted to change the subject. He reached over for a book.

"I have no trouble looking at you, Erik." She said, moving to catch his gaze. "Is that so hard to believe?" He glanced at her briefly.

"That's because you are a special lady, Elaine. I don't need my memories to see that. I know not everyone will treat me the way you do." He said, looking at her intensely for a moment. A strange silence sprang up between them. Elaine leaned over and started to stack the books that were lying on the bed.

"That is the only one are you reading now?" She said, putting the others back on the bedside table for him to reach later.

"Oh, I am done with those." said Erik matter-of-factly, looking at the stack on the table. Elaine glanced at the stack of books. There must have been seven hundred to one thousand pages, all told.

"Let me get this straight. You read all of these? Start to finish?" She said, incredulous.

"I read a bit last night, but mostly this morning since dawn. Very good stories, Elaine, thank you for picking them out." He said, wondering why she was staring at him.

Following a hunch, she walked over to the bookcase and picked out a different book in as many different languages as she could find.

"Can you read these?" she said, placing the stack on his bed. He decided to amuse her request. When he opened the German book, perfect German flowed from his lips. The same happened with the Italian book, then the Spanish book, the Dutch book, the Russian book, and the English book. He read them all with perfect enunciation.

"Well, that is impressive. But do you know what you are saying?" She said, intrigued.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" he said, opening several of the books and translating the contents into French with the speed of a translator. He did the same for all of the languages.

"You must be some kind of linguist…" she said. His brows furrowed.

"As you know full well, I don't know my past profession. Is what I did that unusual? It felt perfectly normal." He admitted.

"I know people who can speak a few languages, Erik, but not read that many so perfectly…" She said.

"When you first came in to see me yesterday, you were speaking a language I could not understand; it sounded familiar, but I could not place it." Erik queried.

"That was Luxembourgish. It is a spoken language only. It is not taught anywhere, not even here. You would not know how to speak it unless you grew up in Luxembourg." She replied.

"Then I must learn it; to be able to speak with the people who live here…." He said. Elaine looked at the stack of books and nodded.

"Seeing how you know so many languages already, I am sure you will master our language in no time at all." She said. A knock on the door broke the mood.

"Hello? Monsieur Erik? Can I come in?" It was Nate. Elaine opened the door and greeted the round faced man with a friendly hug and a smile.

Elaine had told Nate to meet her here after he had finished putting a few alterations on the pair of crutches he was making for Erik. Considering Erik had never met Nate while awake, she figured she would introduce them.

Nate had commented that Erik would need a special set of crutches because of the injuries to his left arm. He would not be able to use regular crutches normally for a while, and he needed to get up and move about before that arm would be able to support his weight. Nate was a very clever and practical man with a firm grasp of common sense.

"This is Nathaniel." She said pulling him to Erik. This was the first time Nate had seen Erik awake.

"Good to see you so much better, Monsieur. And please, call me Nate." Without hesitation, he approached Erik, shook his hand and patted him on the back. This contact was slightly rough but not unpleasant to Erik. Nate had a man's firm touch.

Erik remembered what Elaine had said about Nate the day before. He was her father's butler for many years, ever since the days when Dr. Dyson was studying medicine in Paris. Dr. Dyson had found young Nate on the street corner begging for work. The boy spoke little French so Dr. Dyson, knowing English, befriended the boy and paid him fairly to run some errands. The boy came back day after day for honest work. Eventually, Dr. Dyson took young Nate in, letting him stay with him at his quarters. What the boy lacked in knowledge he more than made up for in industry. After returning to Capellen with the Doctor, Nate worked hard, becoming his most trusted man-servant. He eventually became the one who ran all the practical aspects of Capellen manor. Nate met and married Adele in Capellen. Nate still retained the right to be the Doctor's personal assistant, for their relationship was more like family after 40 years together.

"A more honest, hard-working, and loyal man you would not be able to find." Erik remembered Elaine saying.

"Nate was the man that found you that night." Elaine prompted.

"Oh, yes. If it weren't for your horse, you would have met your end underneath our carriage." Nate added, laying the crutches at the foot of the bed.

"I had a horse?" Said Erik, vaguely remembering the shape of a dark horse in the moonlight. His eyes fluttered closed for a second "Caesar." He said, surprising himself with the recollection. "My horse...his name is Caesar."

"I see. The memories come back bit by bit." Said Elaine.

"Well, I will take you to see Caesar as soon as you are able, Monsieur. " Laughed Nate. "And I am glad to finally have a name for the gorgeous black stallion who thinks he owns the pasture."

Nate and Elaine helped Erik stand and start to use the crutches. It was then that Elaine realized how tall Erik was, since he had to lean on her for a short while as Nate strapped on the left crutch.

As he leaned on her, Erik again basked in Elaine's clean scent; a light soap mixed with flowers. Nate's rather rough treatment of his arm drew his attention away from it. On the left side, his weight was supported at the elbow, just as Nate had designed it to. Erik beamed, happy to be able to move around by himself. He sat down in a chair by the window, aching with the exertion, but satisfied with the result. Elaine stood behind him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well done! You will be moving around unaided in no time. But don't rush it, Erik, or you will end up hurting yourself more. We don't want you to have a setback." She warned. Erik looked up and nodded. Elaine's attention was drawn to a noise coming from outside, the sound of a carriage pulled by horses.

A gilded carriage approached the front of the door, easily seen from Erik's window. Elaine leaned out the window, curious to see whose it was. The carriage door opened and out walked a gorgeous, tall woman; fair skinned, raven haired, dressed in a low cut blue outfit that matched her intense eyes. She flirted briefly with the servant that had opened the carriage door, making him blush scarlet. Even her laugh was provocative. She exuded a strong female sensuality that touched everyone in her path. Elaine smiled widely.

"Angelique!" she said excitedly. She rushed out of the room, pausing for just a second, looking back at Erik. "I'll be back later Erik, I promise!" she shouted, running down the stairs. Nate looked out the window and smiled as well. He pushed Erik's chair closer to the window.

"That is Elaine's best friend, the Baroness Angelique. They have known each other since boarding school. They were, well, partners in crime, should we say." He said with a low laugh, turning to look out of the window.

Erik looked outside with curiosity, spotting Angelique as she gently glided her way up the steps. Her feminine form was emphasized by the way she moved and her choice of clothing. Her hair was tastefully but seductively styled.

"She is stunning." He said, looking at the raven haired beauty, studying her every move. "Angelique…" Nate waved a hand in front of Erik's gaze.

"Beware, that lady is the most beautiful, most intelligent vixen around. A mathematician when she is not wooing some poor man off his feet or romancing some head of state. In certain circles she is known as the 'Tigress'. Man-eater she is. I think it is best you stay clear of her." Nate said. A man exited the carriage after her.

The man who followed her out of the carriage made Nate's face contort with anger.

"Now, what is he doing here?" Nate growled.


	7. Chapter 7

Chap 7

Erik leaned to the side and looked out of the window to see who Nate was referring to. Out of the carriage climbed a man dressed in dark finery. He stood up tall and looked around him, an unpleasant smirk on his face. His features were similar in coloring and shape as those seen on the Baroness, betraying the fact that they were related, but that is where similarities ended.

His eyes were large and blue, but appeared cold and menacing. His black hair was pulled back and was shiny; set against his light skin, it gave him the appearance of a vampire. The beautiful facial features seen on the Baroness appeared sharp and devious on this man, a permanent scowl leaving wrinkles on his face. He walked around his flirtatious sister with arrogance and exuded anger. He affected everyone around him as well, but in an entirely different manner.

Erik's brows furrowed instinctively as he looked outside. Behind him, Nate spoke.

"That man, Erik, is the Marquis of The Ardennes, Prince Montague. He is the brother of the Baroness. Half-brother, actually. His poor mother was the Queen of the Netherlands, their father is the King. It killed her to give birth to that putrid spawn." Nate said, glaring at Montague.

"Angelique's mother was a gypsy of high ranking, a Drabenhgi, who had left her people after falling in love with the King of the Netherlands, several years after his Queen had died. Her mother became the King's beloved consort for many years, much to the dismay of his court. Angelique is the King's obvious favorite, albeit illegitimate, child. It is strange, very strange for the Prince to be here. It can only be in reference to business of the state. He is not well liked here. Forgive my rambling, Erik, I bore you with the details."

"No, no, please go on. I do not mind hearing about it. I don't get out much as you can see." Said Erik, keeping his eyes on the two guests outside. Nate guffawed at Erik's reference to his confinement.

"We can change that, Erik. Tomorrow I will bring you out on a carriage ride to view the estate. Beautiful it is, Capellen manor. Our own little piece of heaven…" Nate continued. By then, Erik only was only half listening.

Erik saw when Elaine reached her friend Angelique. The women embraced with squeals of glee, like schoolgirls reunited. He smiled to himself at seeing Elaine so full of joy. A second later, her demeanor changed as she turned to the Prince; she greeted him with a false smile and a stiff curtsy. He reached out for her hand which she reluctantly gave him. She practically winced when he kissed it, retracting it a little too swiftly.

Elaine stood at the base of the stairs, facing Monty. Their last meeting was not as civil.  
Two years ago, they were both guests in Colmar-Berg, for a gala at the Dukes castle. The festivities were pleasant enough, but Elaine was pursued mercilessly by Monty. He was well known for indulging in drink and making himself a nuisance with the womenfolk. He had much to drink that night. Monty cornered Elaine in a dark hallway and tried to force himself on her. She refused his advances with force after diplomacy was exhausted.

In response to her knee in his groin, he cursed her as a harlot and called her son a bastard. Leaving the party in haste, she had since kept her distance from the molesting Prince. She had attributed his actions that night to the spirits he had taken in, but inside she knew better. Montague had been chasing after her since they were children, and he did not seem to accept that she just did not want to have anything to do with him. Despite his devilish good looks, Montague was a nasty and impatient man. He did not take no as answer. Any refusal she gave only inticed him more.

Back on the steps of Capellen manor, Angelique had quite enough of the tense discourse and walked between Monty and Elaine.

"Come now Elaine, we have much catching up to do…" Angelique said, artfully whisking Elaine away, walking ahead of her now fuming brother.

"Take me to the Earl. Now." Monty snarled at the nearest servant, glaring at his sister.

The women walked up to the second story and rushed into a sitting room, the one next to Erik's quarters. Elaine closed the door with a relieved sigh.

"A thousand thanks, Angelique. Look, I know he is your brother, but he really makes my skin crawl…" said Elaine.

"Don't mention it, honey. I think of you as a sister more than I think of him as a brother. Monty, I know very well, is a cad. I am ashamed of him mostly, and usually just try to ignore the fact that he exists." Angelique said, standing up in front of her, gently holding both of Elaine's hands. "Let us forget about him, please?" She said.

"Gladly, Angelique." Elaine said.

"Do you remember it, Lioness?" Angelique said, a twinkle in her eye.

"Of course, Tigress." Elaine smiled, nodding knowingly. They began to speak in unison:

"Long live the women of the Den of Sands. Intelligence, beauty, and freedom will conquer. Honesty begets trust, begets loyalty, begets sisterhood, begets fortitude. We will prevail in any and all matters." They giggled after the chant.

"I can't believe I still remember that!" said Elaine.

"You best remember it! At the last count, there were 100 more sisters inducted this year in the Universities in Germany and France alone. Our little club has become quite big, my dear." Said Angelique, taking off her coat and hat.

What had started out as a secret girls club in boarding schools throughout Europe, a tribute to the French Poet Madame George Sands, had grown up with the girls who had been a part of it. The Den of Sands became a Sisterhood for learned women all over Europe. The women communicated via mail privately and publicly via cryptic newspaper and magazine advertisements. The women of the organization assisted each other eagerly in all things academic, political, social, and private. Each university with women had a chapter, and many powerful women in society were secretly members of the Den of Sands.

The women at from their school practiced a special brand of freedom: social freedom. The girls at their boarding school were absolute terrors in the sense that they were constantly sneaking off, living life to the fullest, with song, dance, wine, and men. Many men. They referred to each other by playful nicknames such as the Tigress (Angelique), the Lioness (Elaine), the Vixen, and so on. Their exploits were well known, much to the chagrin of their parents. Dr. Dyson was none too proud of Elaine's exploits with Angelique.

Angelique was particularly adept at manipulating members of the male persuasion. She had the knack of knowing how to get around any obstacle thrown her way, and was able to get whatever she desired from any man unfortunate enough to cross her path. Her hunger for sex seemed insatiable, but inside, she was as unreachable and cold as the stars. She swore no love to any man, even those who pledged their love to her. She did not deem any man worthy as anything more than instruments of her pleasure. She broke hearts often, and was particularly devastating to any man who tried to win her heart. She was particularly fond of corrupting virgins.

Elaine, on the other hand, was the sweet one, whom men would fall for hopelessly with a look and a touch, but she was not as unreachable as Angelique. She did break hearts, but she also had her own heart broken in return several times. Being burned too many times, Elaine stopped her exploits when she left the school, only continuing in that vein when she was out with Angelique in society.

"I have a bone to pick with you, Angelique." Said Elaine, with a more serious tone, curling up comfortably on the couch.

"Oh, what have I done now?" Angelique said, dropping back into an overstuffed armchair chair, after she poured herself a drink of something strong from the liquor cabinet. She handed Elaine a glass that was just as full.

"You never invited me to your wedding, Angelique! I thought we were the closest of friends!" She said, genuinely hurt.

"Oh, that contrivance. I would no sooner have invited you to my wedding to the Baron than I would have invited you to see me get my hair done. That was some time ago, wasn't it?" Angelique said, matter of factly.

"I don't understand." Elaine shook her head, quite confused.

"Darling, that was a marriage of convenience to the highest degree. He is an older, infirm gentleman who just happens to be a prominent professor of mathematics in France. We met and I wooed him academically with my latest work on theorems. We published it you know, under my pen name. Anyway, I was the perfect affront for him. You see, my dear Elaine, the Baron and I, well, we shared a common lust …Men!" Elaine's mouth dropped and both Angelique and Elaine squealed with laughter. Angelique continued to explain.

"With me on his arm, and my reputation, the stories of him lying with men all but vanished. Then there were the stories of him being a cuckolded husband, since I chose not to keep my 'habits' out of view. That, he felt he could handle. It has been one of the best relationships I have ever had!" Angelique laughed. She sighed and looked wistfully at the drink. "I will miss him though. He is quite ill, the poor soul, and will probably not be alive by the time I return home." Elaine was shocked; Angelique showed no more sadness than if she was talking about someone else's husband.

"Did you not care for him?" said Elaine.

"Oh yes, very much, as the friend and teacher that he was. Do not despair for him, Elaine, his lover is with him. I would just be in the way." Angelique said.

"All the same, I am sorry, my dear." Elaine said, rubbing her friend's arm.

"Thank you, Elaine. One must move on though."

"Angelique… I don't know how you can maintain your emotional distance like that."

Elaine said, crossing her arms.

"You were always the compassionate one, Elaine. But your quest for love has only gotten you in trouble." Angelique warned.

"I know, I know." She sighed. "You are referring to what happened when I was at the medical college…" Elaine said, suddenly becoming quiet and withdrawn. Angelique got up and sat next to Elaine, holding her around the shoulder.

"I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean to dredge up bad memories. Let us talk of more pleasant things, shall we? Running the risk of sounding like I am prying; what man now makes your cheeks flushed? I hope he is worthy of you, or he will have to contend with me." Angelique said, with a sheepish grin. Elaine looked questioningly at Angelique.

"I am afraid I don't know what you mean, Angelique." Elaine said.

_Ah! She does not even realize she is falling for a man. How so like Elaine._ Thought Angelique, shaking her head.

"Oh, never mind, Elaine, maybe I am reading into your expressions too much. Tell me, what has been happening in your cute little country..." Angelique began to say. They were startled by a noise in the next room. They then heard Nate's angered voice through the walls…

"Damn him!"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapt.8

The women disappeared out of their view into the house from the window in Erik's room, Prince Montegue storming in after them. Erik leaned back into his chair and Nate sat down across from him, next to the window.

"Elaine does not like this Prince." Erik said, feeling an anger towards the man rising up inside him, from where he did not know. "I could see it in her mannerisms. He scares her."

"They have some history, those two. But not in that way…to make a long story short, Montegue he has been obsessed with Elaine, and has been seeking her hand in marriage for years but she refuses. Can you blame her? He is a very unpleasant man, to say the least." Nate responded. They heard a door open, then close forcefully just beneath them. Then they heard the muffled voices of Dr. Conrad and the Prince from downstairs.

"Dr. Dyson's library is immediately beneath us." said Nate, in a low vioce. The next thing they heard were the women walking up the stairs, laughing noisily, going into the room next door.

"Oh great. Bound on both sides. " Whispered Nate. Erik held up his hand to silence Nate, trying to listen to the conversations unfolding. Nate strained to hear. "I can't hear anything…I am deaf in one ear. What are they saying?" said Nate in a loud whisper.

"Who?" said Erik. He wanted to hear the women's conversation, to find out more about Elaine and this Baroness Angelique.

"Downstairs." whispered Nate, pointing down. Erik sighed, then leaned forward and listened closely, relating everything he heard to Nate in whispers.

Dr Dyson was flipping through journals in his library when Jacques knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

"You have a visitor, Dr. Dyson." The young manservant said. Montague practically knocked Jacques over as he pushed past him on his way into the room. Dr. Dyson stood up, surprised to see the Prince.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Prince Montegue?" Said Dr. Dyson, knowing full well this was business.

"Good day to you too, Conrad, Earl of Mamer." Said Montague, menacingly. With the use of Dr. Dyson's official title, undeniably this visit was business. Montague removed his hat and coat and shoved them at Jacque, sitting down afterwards in one if the nearby chairs. Jacque gave Montague a disgusted look and left the room, slamming the door.

Dr. Dyson walked around his desk and leaned on the front edge crossing his arms.

"Well, Prince Montague, if I knew you were coming I would have prepared." Dr. Dyson said, with the slightest hint of annoyance.

_I would have prepared for your arrival by closing the gates with chains and a padlock._ Dr. Dyson thought, with a smirk on his face.

"Let get to the point, shall we? I had to endure my sister tormenting me all the way here." said Montague.

"Oh really? Angelique is here as well? How is my darling girl? How nice, Elaine must be very happy to see HER." Said Dr. Dyson, knowing that would inflame the Prince a little.

"Yes, she is. They ran off together to gossip. Angelique has been up to her usual tricks again. I just don't know what to do with her. She embarrasses my father, the King's house with her antics, she always has." Snapped Montague.

_Not as much as you have. _thought Dr. Dyson darkly.

"As you were saying, Prince…" Dr. Dyson prompted, wanting to get the unpleasantries over with as well.

"Yes, the reason for my visit. It seems that your current Duke of Luxembourg is gravely ill and has taken a turn for the worse. This is the problem: He only has female heirs. Now, it seems that there is a little law here that prohibits royal succession via the females of the blood line, so therefore, that leaves the country without a sovereign when he meets his end." He smiled. "I think, being the son of the King who rules over this pretty little country, I would make a good Duke, and I would be next in line."

"The order of succession goes down the blood line to the relatives of the Duke. You are in an appointed position, not part of the bloodline of the Royalty of Luxembourg…" Dr. Dyson countered.

Dr. Dyson did not care much for the trappings of royalty, of which he was one, but with the tittles came responsibilities of statesmanship, treaties to maintain, treasuries to keep full and people to lead. Montague's father had sent him away from the Netherlands and gave him a small part of Luxembourg to govern because he was making such a mess in his home country.

_It would be a terrible mistake for Montague to rise to be Duke of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. He would only alienate old alliances and send the country into chaos. _Thought Dr. Dyson.

"Yes, I know. That is where you, or rather, Elaine comes into play." said Montague, standing up. "If I were to marry your lovely unwed daughter, I would become part of the bloodline and that problem would be solved. Our children will be the future leaders of Luxembourg. Dr. Dyson; you are well respected and the powers that be will come to ask your opinion. You can vouch for me. Do you see?"

Upstairs in Erik's room, Nate bristled with anger. "This man is a complete ass. Who does he think he is?" Nate said in a loud whisper. Erik felt himself getting angry as well.

_If I were better, I would make quick work of him. _A dark thought floated into his consciousness. Erik shook his head, his headache returning. He did not know where that thought came from.

Dr. Dyson looked at Montague, incredulous. He shook his head.

"There are several problems with your little plan, Montague. Firstly, the King, your father, will decide to appoint who succeeds in this case. Secondly, as you know Elaine will not agree to marry you. Ever. Thirdly, why do you think I will help you?" Montague scowled at him from across the room.

"Your precious little clinic is supported by the good graces of the current Duke. Without that, all the people in this part of the country will go without any medicine. Wouldn't that be awful! Who is to say the new Duke will agree to continue the support unless it is me." He said, as he thought _I personally think it is a waste of money._

"We could find other ways…" Dr. Dyson said. "I could support it for some time."

"Then you will drain your own wealth and leave nothing for your poor daughter. Who will take care of her? Let us be honest Conrad, she is not going to attract many suitors."

"What do you mean?" said Dr. Dyson, beginning to bristle with anger. "Elaine can take care of herself."

"I mean, Conrad, she does not make good decisions. You let her go to Paris to pursue her fantasy of becoming a doctor and look what happened; she came back with a bastard child. Obviously, the girl needs some very firm direction." Montague looked slyly at the now enraged Dr. Dyson.

Upstairs, Nate stood up, knocking over his chair. "Damn that man, Damn him!"

Downstairs, the argument continued.

"I don't believe you would have the nerve to come in to my house unannounced, proceed to ask for my help then insult my family. I don't care if you are the Prince or the Marquis! You are no longer welcome in this house! Get out! Go now!" Dr. Dyson shouted, opening up the door of the library.

Upstairs, Nate strode angrily to the door and opened it to find Elaine and Angelique at their door. They had also heard Dr. Conrad's raised voice.

"Your brother is causing trouble again, my dear Angelique." Said Nate, angrily.

"How unusual." Said Angelique, with sarcasm. Nate slammed Erik's door shut and rushed down the stairs to be at Dr. Dyson's side. The women followed him down the stairs. Elaine looked back at Erik's room, wondering what he thought of all this, and what he had heard.

Montague strode quickly to the foyer of the house and grabbed his things from Jacque, who had not yet put it away. He looked back at Dr. Dyson.

"Don't you worry old man. I will have Capellen Manor some day. And those inside it." He said looking at Elaine walking down the stairs. She froze at his stony glare, her blood running cold. Montague stopped short as Nate pushed in front of him, red with rage.

"Please call off your English Bulldog, Dyson. I am leaving. Come Angelique." Montague said with cold deference.

"I think I am staying a while more, brother. Go on without me, I am among friends." She said, provoking a growl from Montague.

"Have it your way." He said, storming out the door.

Upstairs, Erik stood up, enraged, not even feeling the pain of his weight on his broken leg. _Who could be so cruel these people? _

Suddenly, a flood of memories gripped him and his head seared with pain. His body shook with the dark, nightmarish visions in his mind. He tried to shake the visions, but they continued, mercilessly striking him again and again. They flowed through his head as consciousness left him.

First was the dark vision of a group of people laughing and throwing things at him through black metal bars, as he looked back, helpless, shackled. Then there was the image of an ugly, big man beating on him with a whip, and blood flowing from wounds on his body. Then there was the image of him looking down, his hands firmly around a terrified man's neck. Next was the image of an angry young man fighting him, lashing at him with a sword, and him lashing back. Finally, as he faded into oblivion, he was in a room with fire and smoke, then the flash of broken mirrors, then the rumbling sound of an organ…

His world faded away to black as he fell over onto the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Chap 9

In the foyer at Capellen's manor house, Dr. Dyson, Nate, Angelique and Elaine stood for a moment or two, looking back and forth at each other, tense after the scene with Montegue. The sounds of the carriage riding away echoed in the foyer where they all stood. Angelique decided it was her place to break the tension.

"Dr. Dyson, all I can say is I apologize." She said as she approached him. She gave a respectful curtsy and a nod. "I regret that my brother has behaved in this manner. He asked me to, so I brought him here and for that I am sorry. He said he came to deliver a message from the King." She said, regret in her tone. Angelique always knew how instinctively to diffuse an edgy situation. This was a gift her father, the King, used often, sending her as his ambassador and negotiator all over Europe.

"I thank you Angelique, for you show the graciousness of your house that your brother lacks. You need not apologize for him. He acted of his own accord, not as an emissary of your father." Said Dr. Dyson, reflecting the formal humility of Angelique. Less inflamed, he walked up to her. "And, my dear, you are not only among friends. You are as family to me. You are always welcome here." He reached out his hand in greeting, and gave her a small bow. Dr. Dyson had spent years on his opinion of Angelique. He did not appreciate what he heard of her romantic exploits with various men, particularly when his Elaine was involved in their younger years, but he admired her deeply for her intellect and tact. Those particular characteristics were readily apparent in the aftermath of Montague's departure.

"Well, now that that excitement is over." said Nate "I will go alert the kitchen to place another setting for dinner." He walked past Angelique, and gave her a wink. "Pleasure to see you again, Baroness. British bulldog indeed. Next time I'll show him the dog, I'll kick him in the…" he muttered, walking towards the kitchen. Everyone laughed as he walked away. Nate had is own way of diffusing situations. Angelique turned back to face the doctor.

"Dr. Dyson, I must talk with you in private. Not now, but after everyone has settled down a bit. Will you be able to give me an audience later today?" She requested humbly. There were few men she respected, and he was one that she held in high regard. She spent all of her vacations from boarding school with the Dyson's, and he always treated her respectfully as a daughter, despite all the tales of her improprieties. Monty had come with her a few times as a youth, but proved to be too disruptive. Elaine could not stand to see him, even as a child.

_So, Monty is not the only one with business to discuss. _Thought Dr. Dyson.

"Yes, my dear. I think it best after dinner." He said. He smiled at her and retired to his library. Once in the quiet of his office, he picked up the journal article again and resumed his reading. He was doing some research on amnesia, trying to find out how best to help Erik regain his memory. He heard the sound of a thud come from the room above him. He knew it was Erik's room.

_Maybe something has happened to Erik?_ He thought. He got up and strode into the foyer.

Dr. Dyson walked up the stairs quickly. He rushed to Erik's door and opened it gently. He saw Erik lying on the floor near a chair by the window. He closed the door behind him and rushed to Erik's side.

"Erik, Erik, can you hear me?" he said turning him over and shaking his shoulders. He was about to rise and get some cold water and smelling salts when Erik's eyes opened and he focused in on Dr. Dyson's worried face.

"What happened?" He said, sitting up with Dr. Dyson's help.

"I don't know, I heard a noise in my office downstairs and came up here. You were lying on the floor. Did you hurt yourself? Were you trying to get up?" he asked, as Erik managed to pull himself up onto a chair with Dr. Dyson's help.

"No, no, I'm fine. The last thing I remember was Nate leaving. Then I got a horrid headache, followed by these visions. The next thing I know, you are here shaking me."  
Dr Dyson picked up the crutches, eying them with suspicion.

"Maybe it was too early for you to try these. You may be too weak still." He leaned them against the wall nearby.

"I don't think so Dr. Dyson. I had been sitting for a while after walking around with those. I had no ill feeling for all that time. I passed out after feeling very angry…" Erik stopped short, not wanting to reveal the reason for his anger.

"Very angry? So... Was that before or after the visions came?" Asked Dr. Dyson, remembering something he had just read about amnesia. "Your memories may return in the midst of strong emotions."

"I was angry before the visions." Said Erik, rubbing at his knee. It was sore from the fall. Dr. Dyson nodded to himself.

"I see. That would make sense then." Dr. Dyson queried. "But Erik. why were you so angry?" Erik sighed and looked away, feeling embarrassed for eavesdropping.

"I must apologize. I was overhearing your conversation with this…Prince Montague. I was angry at the way he was treating you and talking about Elaine." Erik said. Dr. Dyson was not very upset at the eavesdropping, but was curious as to why Erik was suddenly so concerned about them.

"My 'guest' and I were having a rather loud discussion. I suppose you could not help but to hear it. Everybody heard it. Now about the visions you were talking about. Do you still remember them?" Dr. Dyson said, walking over to a drawer and rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for: a journal full of blank paper and a pen with some ink.

"Yes, I do. They were dark, but detailed, like nightmares. They come on with a blazing headache that leaves me faint." He held his head remembering the pain.

"Whatever they were, fact or fiction, you must document them. We can try to make some sense of them later. By the way, Erik, thank you for your concern. For us I mean. Prince Montague is a bad sort, but he really has no power or drive to fulfill his threats. He really poses us no danger." Dr. Dyson said, a little disturbed. When it came to Montegue, he was worried. The man was growing more dangerous and irrational each time they met.

"I must admit, though. You look better today. Especially once you get off the floor." Dr. Dyson remarked. Both men had a little well-deserved laughter. Erik looked out of the window, a wistful look on his face. He turned back to face the physician.

"Dr. Dyson, Nate told me that you have an academic library. I wondered if I could take a look there. I do not want to read any more of the fiction that is in this room. These books have stories of other people's lives. I am confused enough about my own. If I could look through some texts, maybe I would remember my schooling. That may make me remember a little about what I have learned in the past, and give me some insight as to what I did for my life's work." Erik said almost pleading. "All I really want to do is find out who I really am." Dr. Dyson smiled and nodded.

"Don't we all want to know who we really are. Some of us never find out." Dr. Dyson said, waxing philosophical for a moment. "Of course you can see my library. If you feel up to it, we could go now." He prompted. Erik smiled back.

"Yes, that would be great. But, you don't have to take me. I don't want to waste a minute more of your time." Said Erik.

"You are not wasting my time Erik. From what I can tell, you seem to be a learned man. I look forward to discussions with you." Dr. Dyson said, helping Erik up onto his crutches. "I assume no more emotional outbursts are in your near future. It is actually important for you to start to moving around the limbs you can."

The women were heard, walking up the stairs noisily again, lingering outside Erik's door in the hallway.

The two men in the room looked at each other awkwardly. Erik felt some trepidation at the presence of the Baroness. She did not seem to posses the qualities of compassion that was so apparent in the Dysons.

"Maybe later, thank you. I should rest and start writing down these visions anyway." Said Erik, settling back into the chair. As he did that, the room began to spin. "The room just took a turn…maybe you are right, I am not really ready to move around as much as I have been." Erik said. Secretly, Dr. Dyson was relieved. He did not yet want to subject Erik to the Baroness.

"Very well, I will talk to you later, Erik. Try to keep your feet up if you feel faint again." Said Dr. Dyson, heading to the door. "I'll send someone up with some dinner later. Unless, of course, you want to join us downstairs." He offered. He could guess the response.

"Some other time, Doctor. I'm not even dressed for dinner." Erik joked, patting the loose nightclothes on his frame.

"That is right, thank you for reminding me. We will need to have you fitted for some new clothes. Your old clothing was destroyed." He said.

"I thank you again for such generosity, Dr. Dyson." Erik said. Dr. Dyson simply smiled back at him, leaving the room.

Erik sat quietly, thankful to be alone for a little while, to nurse his aching head. He desperately needed to gather his thoughts together after the day's affairs. It felt so strange being in a strange place, being completely unaware of his past.

Hesitantly, he opened the journal and picked up the pen…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapt. 10

Raoul and Christine sat silently in the carriage, stopped just outside the Opera House as they had many times before.

_Each_ _time I come here is more difficult than the last_._ I keep searching the windows as if I expect to see him. Why?_ _I should be happy to have him out of my life. But I am not. _Christine thought as she glanced at the ruined façade of the old building. Her mind wandered.

She could no longer deny it, she now felt strangely alone. In the cold walls of the Opera House, she had felt protected by her guardian angel. The idea of her Angel of Music looking after her made her feel safe somehow, guarded by his superhuman strength and deity-like omnipotence. After she found out her Angel was none other than the Phantom of the Opera, a tragic, possessive man hopelessly in love with her, her feelings became complex: anger mixed with sorrow, fear, lust, and love.

_He was always with me, watching me. He would have never let harm come to me. He would have killed for me._ _Your passion is misdirected, Christine. You stupid, foolish girl. _

She ventured a glance down at her lap, where Raoul's darker, bigger hand lay between hers. In a few ways, Raoul was the same as the Phantom, but in many ways, different, very different. Raoul loved her as well, yet tenderly and sweetly. His was a comfortable, deep love, full of hope. He would protect her like a knight, not a panther. Raoul was prepared to kill the Phantom, just so that they would be able to live their life together in peace. Raoul was warm and affectionate, not distant and mysterious like the Phantom.

But he still lurked in her mind, to this day. The Phantom was emotionally labile and vehemently passionate. Just his touch had sent hot shivers though her body and awakened every nerve. The Phantom's music and voice were something that she could never, would never want to forget; they tugged at her heart but made it ache. He wanted her, needed her with all his heart and soul, she had never felt such passion. He had awakened secret, primal urges within her young mind. Now, deep in a hidden place within her, she yearned for him. She could not shake the empty feeling of his loss.

Raoul put his arms around Christine's shoulders and held her to him, kissing her cheek. They sat there for several more minutes silently, staring at the burnt out windows and broken doors, each in their own world. Cleaning crews were at work gutting out the insides of the opera house, the debris on the stairs trailing from the door like black putrescence. The façade had the appearance of a skull.

Raoul looked down at his darling Christine, wondering what she was thinking, but just letting her stare, a parade of emotions crossing her lovely face. She finally hung her head.

"Let us go now," she said in a soft voice. No tears this time.

They had started planning the wedding and all the intricacies of their future life after the opera house fire. Raoul had taken her away from it all, to stay at his family's estate. Preparations for their wedding made it necessary to venture into Paris often, especially to places around the opera house. Christine was both enthralled but also overwhelmed at the idea of the gala event of the wedding. Raoul did not push her for a date, knowing that Christine, in her own time, would schedule it. He did not want try to control her life like others had.

_She has been through enough, the poor girl._ He thought, as he looked at her delicate features, bordered by her soft, dark hair. Raoul had respect for her and patience enough to let her work through her problems at her own pace. Besides, armed with her love, he felt he had all the time in the world.

"How long do you think it has been?" Ventured Raoul gently, pushing away a stray lock of hair.

"Several weeks, I think," she said, her head hanging over her nervous hands which were playing with a small bouquet in her lap, a sample from the florist. She had picked out the whitest, most beautiful flowers, but not a single rose. The florist had thought it strange, not having any roses, but Raoul insisted that he follow her request exactly, supporting her blindly.

Raoul disappeared into his own thoughts at that time, hearing in her voice that she really did not want to engage in conversation. The early evening light was ominous; appropriate for what he was thinking. He remembered their ordeal deep in the catacombs of the opera house vividly. Raoul winced with pain as he remembered the pool with the iron grating, its weight stopping him from getting air to his burning lungs. He really thought he was going to die. The sick feeling in his stomach returned when he had arrived at the lair and saw his Christine dressed in a wedding gown with that man, that thing holding her. It had only gotten worse.

"Raoul!" His internal musings were interrupted as Christine clutched his arm firmly. He strained to look where her face was turned, but he did not see anything unusual.

"Christine, what is it?" he said, looking around.

She stretched out a shaky finger and pointed to a tall man that was walking away from their carriage.

"That man! I think it is... I know the design on that cloak anywhere!" Her expression faded into a curious, faraway look. Raoul caught sight of it. It was a long, sweeping black cloak with ornate black embroidery between the shoulders that flowed down the torso to the legs to a point. The design revealed itself only with light or movement.

_Just the sight of him affects her so much. _Raoul thought as he looked at her face.

Christine remembered the last time she had seen that design. She had studied it intensely on her trip down to the cold, dark cellars of the opera house. Between intense glances back from the pale green eyes of the Phantom, she had looked at the cloak on his back, tracing every strand of embroidery with her eyes. His broad back and slender form made the design dance in front of her. The flickering torches enhanced his stealthy but strong movements. When they arrived at the lake, he gently lifted her into his boat, brought her into his world, and thus began her journey. The dream, however, later turned into a nightmare.

In a swift, flowing movement, Raoul jumped down from the carriage and headed into the crowd after the man. He briefly turned back to face Christine.

"Stay here! I will be back."

"Raoul, no!" Fear gripped her.

_Why is he going after him? Leave him alone! You have already won your fight._ She could only watch in worry from the coach as Raoul disappeared into the crowds, the streets becoming darker by the second with the grey of the approaching night.

Raoul rushed in between the well dressed folk, standing tall on his toes, peering over the crowd to catch a glimpse of the man with the black hooded cloak. He spied the man crossing the street about one block away. He walked rapidly, pushing people in his haste. He started into a run when he saw the man turn the corner past the baker's shop. He did not want to lose his trail. He turned the corner just in time to see the edge of the cloak slip into an alleyway. He sprinted to the alleyway. Turning into the alleyway, he was hit by a gust of wind that blinded him temporarily. Blinking, he saw the man directly ahead. He ran up to him. He briefly wondered what the Phantom's response would be, or what his response would be for that matter. He wrapped one hand around a gun at his belt at the same time that he grasped at the hooded man's shoulder.

The startled man swung around at the feeling of Raoul's grasp. Raoul stood paralyzed, in shock. The man was a bearded, burly man with stringy, unkempt hair. Ugly as hell, but not the Phantom.

"What the hell do you want?" said the burly man, taken aback by the sight of a well dressed young nobleman in front of him in the darkening alleyway. The burly man had been heading to his favorite house of ill repute to spend some of his newly acquired wealth. He would have said more or charged at Raoul had he not caught a glimpse of the gun.

"Your cloak. Where did you get it?" Raoul said, breathing hard between bared teeth, out of breath from his run.

"What's it to you?" The burly man said, defiantly.

"Where did you get it? I will only ask once more. I know you did not buy it," Raoul said, glaring at the man and drawing his gun, pulling back the hammer.

"Ok, ok, take it easy! I found it on a dead man." The burly man twisted his face into a scowl and released an evil snicker.

_The stranger on the road is most likely maggot food by now. _The burly man thought.

Raoul pointed his gun at the man's chin.

"Wait man! I tell you the truth! The man was dead! Lying in a ditch by the side of a road! He was a freak! Devil's mark on his face…" The burly man put his hands up and backed away from Raoul, babbling. "I took his coat, because he didn't need it anymore. A dead body needs no warmth."

Raoul's face changed to shock, his hand with the pistol lowering. He now knew the burly man was definitely referring to the Phantom. The burly man put his hands down.

"Was he a friend of yours?" Asked the burly man, noting the shock on Raoul's face.

"No," Raoul said, too quickly. "No, he was just someone…I knew."

Without another word, Raoul put away the pistol and walked out of the alley rapidly, long before the burly man could react. He was not sure how to feel about the news. The Phantom. Dead. Lying in a ditch on the side of a road like a dog. As he walked back to the carriage many thoughts flew through his mind.

_So he is dead now. I should be elated. The scourge is gone. But I cannot find joy in his demise. No one deserves to die like that. Not even him. _

As the days had past after their ordeal in the opera house, Raoul, begrudgingly, had found some respect in his mind for the beast man. He remembered the last time he had seen the Phantom. It was as Christine ran to him in the boat on the subterranean lake in the lair. Raoul had looked up at the man as he lifted Christine on to the boat. It was the Phantom's boat, given to them so they could make their escape. The same face that had spat at him with hatred as he tied him up on the metal gate appeared so forlorn and devastated. As Raoul held her close, the Phantom had looked directly at him. Raoul would never forget the look. It was the look of a man getting his heart ripped from his chest. And the Phantom was standing there motionless, letting Raoul take the woman they both loved away. All that seemed to be left was an empty shell. Raoul had nodded to him silently, as if to let him know that he would take good care of Christine. In those few seconds, they were enemies no more. With that last glance, the Phantom had lowered his head in defeat. His was obviously a deeply painful decision. Raoul saw that pain and knew that he had won Christine. The Phantom, on the other hand, had lost everything.

Raoul spotted the carriage and a very distraught Christine. He walked over to it briskly, sighing as he climbed into the carriage. Christine looked at him nervously in the low light of dusk.

"It was not him," Raoul said, as he saw her worried glance. He stopped at that half truth. He would tell her of the Phantom's fate sometime later, in private. Someday. Her pretty brows crinkled and she sat down, confused.

"I was so sure that was his cloak." she said, looking back into the crowd. Raoul just held her hand and his tongue. They rode back to the manor in silence.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapt. 11

_I hate him. I really hate him. What a damn snake!_

Elaine was practically combusting with anger. It made her shake so much, she nearly dropped Erik's dinner tray. She stopped briefly at a table in the foyer.

She had just finished talking with her father about his discussion with Montague. Her father spared her no details. Dr. Dyson told her about Montague's plan to hold the fate of the clinic over her father's head, his plan to rise to be Duke, his plan to marry her and how 'their children would rule Luxembourg'.

_Just the thought of his greasy paws touching me again makes me want to vomit._

She knew very well Montague did not even care about her. She was just a challenge at best and a pawn he wanted to claim. A pawn with benefits, from his perspective. She gagged on her own saliva.

_He would have to beat me, tie me up and rape me for me to go near his bed! Then again, from what I see, he would._

Elaine shivered with that realization. She had no desire to tangle with the man.

_Calm down girl, he's gone now. Stop thinking about him. __Let's go see Erik, my mysterious Erik._

She spent a few minutes calming herself down before heading up the stairs. She was enjoying seeing the fruits of her labors; this man they had rescued was turning out to be rather interesting.

About an hour ago, Angelique and Elaine had been talking in her room while Angelique was busy freshening up; a long drawn out ordeal filled with powders and perfumes and finery, and a lot of looking at herself in the mirror. Angelique was a touch vain. It could take hours. Elaine eventually excused herself to do her much more succinct version of 'freshening up'.

Just before going downstairs, Elaine had checked Angelique's room and found her sleeping. No doubt she was napping after her long, annoying carriage ride with her brother. So Elaine figured she would take that time to visit Erik.

Elaine knocked on his door gently.

"Hello Erik." She said softly, pushing open the door. Erik was by the window, leaning over a journal on the table.

"Elaine? I thought you were busy with your friend." A pleasant smile showed his surprise and happiness at her presence. He did not think he would see her again today. He was so taken with her that he forgot to shut the journal.

"Who, Angelique? She is taking a nap right now. So I thought I would come and bring your dinner in the meantime." She paused for a moment. "Sorry for the ruckus earlier," she said walking over to the table.

"Why are you sorry? From what I heard, you did not cause it."

_I guess in a way you did, _he thought, remembering that things did not get out of hand until she was mentioned.

She set the tray down gently and glanced over at his journal. No words were there, just a beautiful line drawing of a face that was almost finished. The soft eyes stared at her. They were her eyes. The central features; the nose, mouth and eyes were intense and picture perfect. The hair and clothing surrounding her face were softer, shaded and incomplete. She reached out to pick up the journal to look at it more closely.

"May I?" She said, with a small smile that showed her wonder. Erik nodded.

Erik gulped down the lump in his throat. He felt caught red handed. He could only hope that his feelings for her were not visible in his drawing. He had been thinking about her, and it felt so natural to sketch her image. He looked up at her face as she cradled the journal in her hand. Her expression was that of awe. As she looked closely at the drawing, she moved her hand to touch the gentle sweep of her neck on the page.

_How detailed, how perfect._

"Be careful Elaine. Please, don't touch it. I think it may still be l wet." He warned gently.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to ruin this. Oh Erik, this is exquisite. So… you are an artist?" she queried.

"I would hardly call myself an artist by one work alone, but, I don't know," he said truthfully. None of his nightmares or visions had given him the impression that art was a big part of his former life. The music sounding through his head, on the other hand…

"I have seen a fair amount of art in my time, Erik. Just this little picture shows much talent, my dear," she said, surprised at how comfortable it felt to address him in such a familiar fashion. He smiled in response.

"I opened the book to down to write something, but started to draw instead. I guess I have done it, drawing, a bit before. The lines just flowed effortlessly. It was as if my hand knew exactly what to do. All I needed to do was give the mental picture."

"Well it is lovely. I thank you for making me your first subject here in Capellen." She leaned over and planted a sweet kiss on his forehead, resting her hand on his shoulder.

She lingered before him, her hand on his shoulder. He smiled back at her as her fingers played gently with the hair on his neck.

_So,he is a linguist, and possibly an artist. Definitely intelligent. Definitely interesting._

The soft kiss on his face burned into him. As she lingered before him, he fought back a urge to touch her. He suddenly felt like pulling her into his arms. She was standing so close…He gasped a little, as his eyes floated down her body; his eyes traced her neck, her breasts, her small waist, the gentle curve of her hips. He looked back up at her face quickly. He did not want her to think he was ogling her.

"You, eh-em, are welcome." He said, his voice cracking a little.

She sensed what she thought was discomfort on his part. His body had tensed up against her hand. She interpreted his movement it as her actions having made him uncomfortable. Showing affection openly was just part of what made her Elaine. She could not help it, really. But she did know not everyone was so inclined, to appreciate that kind of openness. Not everyone liked to be touched.

"I did not mean to offend you, Erik," she said, as she backed away. He suddenly looked disappointed. She looked at him questioningly.

_Then what is it?_ She thought, a little frustrated by his response.

"No, Elaine, you certainly did not offend me," he said, reaching out to capture what she had withdrawn. He held her delicate hand in his own rough one, his thumb slowly stroking it. He closed his eyes as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

_On the contrary my lady, you just sent my spirit flying through the roof, and my mind to somewhere…intimate._ He opened his eyes, staring at their hands, wrapped together.

"I think it is just that I am not used to being touched. I think am not used to being around people…or having people want to stand close to me…" His voice trailed off to a whisper. "or kissing me."

His face twisted at his realization and a shot of pain went through his chest. He was feeling just a small inkling of the pain that his solitude had caused him all his life. He bent his head forward and closed his eyes, trying to fight the sadness that was welling up inside.

Elaine held her breath, her heart breaking with the thought that he had rarely been touched so tenderly. The evidence of how he usually was touched flashed in her mind: the extensive scars, all over his body.

_What kind of life have you been living, Erik? Your pain is so easy to see._

Instinctively, Elaine walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, one hand patting his chest as she resting her head against his. She knew very well how healing a simple touch could be. Human touch, she knew, was as essential as water to one's emotional wellbeing. Erik gasped silently, his heart swelling.

"I hope you don't mind. I like to be affectionate. Just let me know if it bothers you." She whispered in his ear, rocking him gently.

"You will never hear a complaint from me, Elaine." He whispered, placing his hand on hers. He took a deep, cleansing breath. The feelings of loneliness all but disappeared as he was encircled by her arms. She held on to him for what felt like an eternity. When she felt his breathing become regular and comfortable she walked around to face him.

"Do you want to get out of this room for a while?" She asked with a smile. His glance was peaceful and sedate.

"I thought you would never ask."

They managed to make it down the spiral staircase intact, Erik balancing on his one good leg and hopping down the stairs with his arm draped over Elaine. She was slender but strong, holding him around his waist tightly with one arm and holding the rail with the other. She had brought down the crutches before their descent. Despite the cramping and the pain shooting in his arm and leg, he still managed a smile at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, that was difficult." He laughed weakly, working his way onto the crutches. As they walked, and limped, through the foyer, Erik stopped short, staring with wide eyes through the open doors into the parlor. Elaine turned to him.

"What is it, Erik?" She asked. Erik looked as if he had just seen an old friend. She looked to where his gaze was fixed. In the parlor was the imposing figure of a large, grand piano. "Do you play?" she said, walking him towards the parlor.

"I think so." he said, feeling a strange sensation come over him as he slid onto the bench. Elaine sat on his left side, the side of his injured arm.

"Father used to play a lot with my mother, I hear. She died when I was born. She loved music; she was a pianist, cellist, and a violinist. I learned how to play the piano when I was young but I stopped practicing a while ago. No one has played this piano in a while…" She stopped, her face in awe as his hand flew up and down the keys, barely touching, playing rapid, perfect major and minor scales and chords. Her jaw dropped in amazement.

"It is a bit out of tune…" Erik said, wincing at a note that was slightly off. "I think I could tune it later with the proper tools." He stopped playing after the noticed the shocked look on her face. "What is it, Elaine?" He said.

"It is just that I have never seen someone play like that, like a maestro." She looked into his green eyes.

_So, you are a musician too. Who the hell are you Erik? _Elaine thought.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapt 12

"I play the violin as well." He said with a far away, almost trance like tone. Erik looked down at his left arm, wrapped in a splint, frustration and fear creeping into him. He glanced back at Elaine, who was still staring at him.

"Will I be able to play with this hand again?" he said in a low voice. She knitted her brows with confusion, looking down at his arm. Realization spread over her countenance.

"Oh, your arm. You should be able to have full use of that hand and arm, as long as it heals well." She laughed a little. "I hope we did a good job setting it that night…we were in such a rush, because you were in such danger. How were we to know were setting the bones of a musician?" Elaine said. Erik stroked the keys delicately with his uninjured hand.

"Now it makes sense. I was really quite worried about my arm when I first had awoken, and I did not understand why. After all, I have other injuries." He let out a deep sigh, glancing back to his left hand. "I guess only time will tell." His eyes closed as he felt the music flow from his heart to his hand.

"Oh yes, music was a big part of my world, that I can feel." His heart did not forget that.

Elaine stood up and walked to the other side of the piano to listen. He did not even notice that she had left his side. The melody he was playing emanated such depth and yearning, she was completely enraptured in a few short notes. His eyes were closed and his body moved slightly with the music. He began to sing softly as he played, a deep tenor, full of texture. Elaine quickly closed the French doors to the parlor, not everyone in the house to hear. She turned to face him and could not believe her ears. The passion in the music and his voice tugged at her soul ...

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation,  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination,  
silently the senses, abandon their defenses…

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…"

Erik opened his eyes and suddenly he was thrust into a different world. Staring through a haze at his hands, now over the keyboards of an organ, he blinked repeatedly as he looked up, not believing what he was seeing. Candles of all sizes were lit all around him on innumerable candelabras, and he was in a cold, damp place. His body became chilled to the bone. He was now dressed in a white shirt and a black silk robe. Then, out of the darkness and cold, he heard a voice, a clear woman's voice, singing behind him, he struggled to turn his body but could not.

_Am I imagining this?_ _What is happening to me? Who's voice is that? It is so familiar. _

Elaine noticed the sudden change in Erik when he stopped playing and rushed to his side.

"Erik, what happened? What's the matter?" She said, becoming concerned, reached for his hands. His face was pale and his eyes were wide, unfocussed; it was as if he was seeing a ghost. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, gasping for breath.

Slowly, Erik opened his eyes again. The scene that now lay before him allowed him to catch his breath. He was in the parlor again, Elaine sitting before him, face straight with concern.

"Elaine, I am so happy to see your face." He gripped her forearms tightly, almost as if in a panic. "I-I need some air," he stammered. Erik felt as if the earth beneath him and the walls within him were breaking, threatening to let him fall.

"Come, Erik," Elaine said, as the she helped him up. Together they struggled to the door that led out from the parlor onto the veranda. As the door swung open, he inhaled the fresh air as if he had been holding his breath. It was a crystal clear, cool night. The stars were out and the moon was bright, but even with that ambient light, he could barely see.

Erik leaned over the banister as music continued to play in his head, ringing in his ears. Sensual, pain unducing music ran like a flood through his mind, his own voice mocking his discomfort. He shivered, and after a few difficult minutes the music quieted down within his head.

Elaine stood behind him, not knowing quite what to do, confused and frightened by his actions. Despite the fact that he was wearing thin clothes, she knew it was not cold enough to warrant the tremors making his body quake. She busied herself by rubbing his shoulders and his back as he shivered. Eventually, the tremors stopped and his shoulders relaxed. He turned around to face her. Beads of cold sweat were running down his face. He leaned back to sit on the banister.

"I'm a composer, Elaine. And that…that was my music." he said quietly, with a faraway gaze. Elaine gasped, quite taken aback.

"Your music, Erik? It is beautiful, really beautiful. But why does it have this affect on you?" she whispered.

_His music? It touches me so_.

She resisted the urge to touch his face tenderly, as passionately as his music made her feel. Instead, she wiped the sweat away from his face with her handkerchief. "Are you alright?" She said gently.

Erik's eyes were closed again as her gentle hand took the sweat from his brow. He was in a state of heightened awareness. He smelled the sweet, faint smell of flowers and her own scent as her kerchief rubbed his face. It took all that was left of his self control to not reach out to her. He let a breath escape onto her wrist as it moved past his mouth.

Her heart leaped within her chest as she felt his hot breath on her wrist.

"What happened back there?" She said, feeling an urgent need to change the subject and distract them both. He opened his adoring green eyes. She shivered in his gaze.

Nate was in his office, which was adjacent to the parlor. He had heard the soft tones of the piano, then a man's voice singing. Then it stopped abruptly. Curious, he walked from his office towards the parlor. He met Dr. Dyson in the hall.

"You heard it too?" Nate asked. Dr. Dyson nodded. They both knew the man singing must be Erik.

Together they walked into the parlor to find it empty. The door on the far side of the room was open, the wind blowing through the gossamer curtains. Both men rushed outside.

Elaine and Erik stood facing each other on the edge of the veranda, talking softly.

"I was remembering again, it comes suddenly, each time more vivid than the last. I feel each vision- like a spectator from within myself, unable to move or speak. But each time, each time I have more questions than answers…" he said, looking haggard. Erik had been answering her question.

_If it continues on like this, I will surely go mad…_

"Father said your memories should come back bit by bit. Or like an avalanche. I can't even imagine what it must be like." She was cut short by the two men coming out of the parlor. "Father? Nate?"

"Sorry, I hope I did not disturb you," started Erik, realizing that they must have heard the piano.

"No, please. Don't be sorry. It was nice to hear music in the house again." Dr. Dyson gave a sad little smile, being taken back to the time when the beautiful music his wife played graced these quiet halls, so long ago. "It was just unexpected is all."

"That was you then, playing and singing?" They all looked at Nate. He had a knack for stating the obvious.

"It is as you said, Doctor. My hands, well, hand, knew exactly what to do, the music just flowed effortlessly. I also experienced glimpses of the memories associated with it; vague images." He went back into his far away stare.

"You look exhausted, Erik, I think you should rest. Maybe you should not have exerted yourself so." Dr. Dyson shot a warning stare at Elaine. Elaine backed away, suddenly feeling ashamed for pushing Erik so hard. Elaine braced herself for the lecture she knew was coming. Her face flushed.

"I will help you back upstairs." Said Nate, throwing Erik's good arm over his shoulder. "So, a pianist? Sounded good to me. What else do you play? Can you play Bach…what about Mozart, I love Mozart." he said, trying to engage Erik in some light hearted banter as he brought him back into the house.

Dr. Dyson sighed and walked up to his daughter who was looking sadly at Erik limping away. Speaking to her sternly would be of no use, he surmised. She already appeared to feel guilty. Instead, he gave her a fatherly hug, holding his comments until Nate and Erik were far enough away not to hear.

"Lanie, I know you want him to get better, to remember. But we can't rush these things. He is still very weak and very fragile, mentally and physically. I think we should stop pushing him for now. It may all be too much too soon. I am as guilty as you." He turned her around and put his finger under her chin. "My darling girl. You are still doing a fabulous job with him. I am convinced that we rescued him from the jaws of death. It will take some time, but eventually, we will help him regain his life." Elaine smiled up at him. He was such a wonderful father and teacher. But a thought crossed her mind and her brows furrowed.

"Father, why do his memories return so traumatically? It is as if they are all terrible nightmares."

"Elaine, we do not know from whence he came. I can only imagine that his life has not been an easy one," he said, giving her a knowing glance. She nodded.

"I saw the scars, too." She said, shuddering at the remembered images.

"There are things in his past he probably does not want to remember. But it will all come back, the good and the bad. If it comes back too quickly, judging on how he acts when he remembers just a few details, a few moments, it could be dangerous. He could be devastated mentally." His face wrinkled with concern.

"He has been through enough already," Elaine said, hanging her head. "I will not push him again, I promise."

Safely back in his quiet room, Erik still felt uneasy. It had been hours since Nate had brought him there and helped him sit and eat. He had a strange, annoying sensation ever since he came back from the veranda. A strange, empty feeling he could not place took up residence in his chest. He played with the food on the dinner tray, his mind far away. If he could have paced in the room, he would have.

His music, those words, his words echoed in his head. He had written them down in the journal. While reading them over and over, he realized how seductive and intense they were. They spoke of a longing and a deep love.

_Who was I trying to seduce? Had I succeeded? Is there someone out there waiting for me? God I need to know._

He looked at his face in the mirror. He was able to do it now, but he still felt pain in his heart upon seeing himself. In his mind, he pictured himself differently. Maybe it was because of the blind acceptance that the Dyson's had for him. They did not stare or make faces, or do anything at all to make him feel anything but normal.

_But I am not normal, that I know. Within and without. Somehow, I doubt anyone waits for me._

He struggled to stifle the self pity that was creeping into his mind. That, he knew, would be useless. He rubbed at his tired eyes and then let his hand drift down across his scarred face, feeling the roughness, how unreal and inhuman it felt.

_I am an alien in my own skin. A stranger in my own head... _

Slowly, he hobbled over to the bed and fell in, wincing with pain as he moved into a comfortable position under the covers. His mind was filled with unpleasant thoughts.

_Damn, when will these bones heal? I hurt with every single bloody movement. At least they remind me I'm alive. Why do I bother to sleep? I will just be tortured by whatever it is. The demon de jour, I guess._

Physical exhaustion won over mental disquiet and Erik drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapt 13

Christine stood before the window, staring out at the grasslands beyond the grounds of the mansion facing west. The sun was setting, a beautiful orange fire that lit the gardens below. A breeze flew over the grasses making them change shades of gentle amber in waves. The beauty did not lift her heavy heart. She did not go to tea that day, making the excuse that she was tired from today's excursion and needed some rest. Raoul seemed a little distant after his foray into the square, when he had tried to catch the man she thought was the Phantom.

The De Chaney clan treated had her well, and the staff acted as if she was already their countess. They were extremely accepting when Raoul brought her to live with them, despite her tear stained face and half soaked wedding gown beneath a blanket. No questions asked. All they needed to know was she was Raoul's choice, his fiancée. Her room was fit for a princess; she was given lovely clothes to wear and a maid to attend to her. Patience and generosity was abundant here, and they respected her silence over the first week with matched silence. She did overhear Raoul talking with them softly in the living room, telling the tale of their misadventures when he thought she was not around. There was an abundance of "poor, poor dear", "that must have been awful", and her favorite "what a terrible man."

_They knew nothing about the man they called terrible, nothing, _she had thought, feeling defensive. _I am not so innocent either._

She had eventually grown closer to the DeChaney's, joining in their delightful conversations about what she felt was minimally interesting. Acting appropriate was important; smiling at the right times, laughing at the proper things and saying the correct responses on cue. Everything seemed plain and contrived.

But there was excitement, danger and mystery in the opera house. She actually missed it.

The urge to sing was not in her since leaving the opera house, save a few half hearted scales. Practice would have to start in earnest soon if she wanted to maintain the instrument the Phantom so painstakingly built within her.

_Oh, so that is what is on my mind. No, Christine, do not think about him._ She warned herself.

Her attempts to forget the episode in the lair had been largely unsuccessful. She wanted desperately to strike it from her brain, because it confused her immensely. It muddled up the perfect little world she was trying to build for her and Raoul. How could she feel betrayal, hatred, distain in one moment, then a host of completely different feelings the next?

Being so young and naïve, she did not understand how fine a line there was between love and hate, until she experienced it herself. She closed her eyes tight and covered her face, allowing herself to remember, letting herself picture the maniacal man who screamed at her in their trip back down to the lair, hoping that the awful memory would purge him from her consciousness.

He was so angry. The coldness and hatred poured out of the Phantom, as he dragged her down to the lair. She remembered how she saw a sick sense of satisfaction in his face as he put the noose around Raoul's neck.

It was a diabolically good plan. Of course she was left with no other choice. She would go with the Phantom, to save Raoul's life. She had mouthed "I love you" to Raoul, her way of saying goodbye. The Phantom had won everything; he was undeniably in control for that minute. In the end, he could not do it, however.

She remembered walking up to her fallen angel, the lunatic in the water, having made her decision. Just as he demanded, she would go with him, be with him. Life with that scarred face, imprisoned in that lonely place must have been unbearable. She drew upon her pity for him, the lust for her Angel of music, and her feelings of compassion for his tortured soul until her anger and hatred decreased. After all, he was the man who lit her desires on fire with his music and words.

Living a life in fear and hate was not an option for her. She would rather die. Instead, she promised herself she would fill the Phantom's world with love, if she could. Their passion would turn into flame together. She walked up to him, a changed woman in total surrender, sliding on the ring

_I will give you a love like you have never known,_ Christine remembered thinking, just before she kissed him.

As she came closer to him, his tone and features changed. His eyes revealed the desperate adoration she had seen minutes before up on the bridge, during their performance of Don Juan Triumphant. Before she could loose her resolve, she quickly leaned into him and kissed him. His lips and mouth were cold, his skin damp. They warmed up instantly with her touch. The kiss was so intense that she had to back away for a second. She could not believe it; all she knew was how right it felt.

His eyes were then incredulous deep pools of pale green filling with tears, after their first kiss. Even the scarred side of his face softened. She did not see in his face the happiness, the satisfaction that she expected. Her arms wrapped around him in a lovers embrace, and she kissed him again, deeper now, their mouths moving instinctively together. She felt the passion awakening like a wave within her, and she sent those feelings all his way. She touched his face lovingly, in full acceptance of her fate.

_Can't he feel it? Can't he see it? He will never be alone ever again..._

She still did not believe what happened next. When she pulled away from him to look at him again he appeared devastated. An immense sadness poured out of his defiant, strong frame which was now bent over as if in pain. He sobbed deeply as he stumbled away from her. She did not know what to do next.

He told Raoul to take her away, commanded that she forget about him and all that happened between them.

_How am I going to forget him? Obviously, I can't. He told me to go. I showed him love and he freed me. I guess he really did love me._

As she thought more about it in the weeks to come she understood why. Even in his rage, the Phantom knew she was only staying with him to save Raoul's life. He wanted her love, not just her obedience. She would have stayed with him as a hostage. His deep love for her destroyed his own plan.

Somewhere in his desperate mind, she believed, he could not bear to be subject to her forced affection. His feelings for her were too genuine to subject her to a lifetime of suffering the same dark, dismal fate, the fate of a monster, an outcast, a murderer. With all the love in his shattering heart, he had let her go. She silently thanked him for it then and many times since. Under those set of circumstances, he was right. She would not have been happy staying with him. If only things could have been different.

She still felt immense sorrow and regret, leaving him there in the cold, lonely lair, minutes after she promised to show him that he was not alone. Despite everything that happened, she actually felt guilty for abandoning him. She reached up and touched her lips, longing for that intense passion once again.

"Christine? May I come in?" Raoul beckoned, in a soft voice from outside her door.

"Yes, yes, one minute." She mopped up the tears she had let form below her eyes and put on her best face. Sweet, charming, handsome Raoul. Little did he know that his Little Lottie was thinking of another man, one not as handsome, or charming, or sweet. She needed to talk to Raoul. She opened the door and greeted him with a smile.

In an instant, Raoul saw right through her false smile. Raoul had spent a lot of time watching his quiet, brooding Christine; constantly and painfully silent. It gave him the time to learn how she felt by looking at her expressions, her body language. He touched her face near her eye, the moisture betraying her.

"What's the matter, darling?" He said as she backed away and walked towards the window, looking lost and forlorn. He followed her for a few steps, then paused, waiting for her to speak. She would talk when she wanted to.

_What is troubling you tonight, precious one. __You are not yourself. _He thought.

She had been though so much in her young life; the death of her parents, living in the opera house with a stern ballet mistress as her foster mother, being stalked by a phantom. He handled her with care and respect at all times.

Raoul was still mad at Madame Giry, because, in his eyes, she had betrayed Christine. She had allowed, actually encouraged, that madman manipulate and mesmerize her. Even with the beautiful gift he gave her, her voice, he felt that it came at too steep a price. Christine's freedom. The Phantom wanted to posses her.

_No, that madman would not have harmed her physically_, _but the mental scars he has inflicted are plain enough to see._

"Raoul, when we promised ourselves to each other, we promised that we would always, always be honest." She looked down at her wringing hands. Raoul felt a lump form in his throat.

_Did she know of my half truth today? But how?_ He thought.

"Well, I must be honest with you. I have been thinking about that night, that night in the basement of the opera house. I was thinking about him," Christine continued.

Raoul sighed briefly but he knew he was not off the hook yet. He had to tell her about the Phantom's death, and soon. He walked up behind her and stroked her shoulders. He took her actions as being worried for her safety.

_Little does she know, she has nothing to worry about._

"After today's events, I am not surprised. Do not worry, darling, you are safe here. He cannot haunt you anymore." Raoul choked on the words that he needed to tell her.

_All I need say is 'because he is dead'._ _She will understand then, she is not in any danger anymore. Why am I so hesitant to tell her?_

"No, Raoul, that is not it. I am not scared of him coming to abduct me or the like. He will not come for me here or anywhere. He gave me up, for my own good. I know it hurt him terribly to do it," she said, holding his hand on her shoulder.

"Then, what is it?" Raoul asked.

"Sit down, please." Christine walked away from him. Raoul backed up and sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped in front of him, listening intently.

"That night, I felt, strange, strong, probably misplaced feelings for the man. Feelings I just don't understand. I don't even know how to talk about it with you."

"Don't be afraid, Christine. Just tell me what is on your mind. I welcome your honesty." He was ready to hear whatever she would say, even if he would not like it.

"His voice, his music, they had filled my head for so long. His voice stirred me deeply." She looked down and played with her nails.

_Yes, I know. I saw that during the Don Juan performance,_ Raoul thought with a pang of jealousy.

"It was filled with such feeling. But then I hated him for what he did to the opera house, for what he was planning to do to you." She started to cry with frustration.

"How could he be so cold and cruel? How could someone capable of such beauty be capable of such evil? The murder, the destruction? I just don't understand it! And after all that, after all he put us through, how can there still be a part of me that wonders how he is. Raoul, he was my companion and my teacher long before he became the Phantom to me, my father's ghost and my jailer all rolled up into one man. But the last time I saw him, he was not a terrifying killer. The last time I saw him all I saw was a lonely, devastated, lost soul." She regained her composure, but still could not say what she was thinking next.

_And he has successfully stolen a piece of my heart._

"Yes, I remember. I remember his hate, Christine. He hated everyone but you, yet he still was willing to do things to hurt you and me. Yes, he hated people. Why wouldn't he, after society was so cruel to him… all the terrible things that were done to him."

She spun around to face him, her lovely brows knitted. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you know? His time with the gypsies, his travels around the world, how he helped to build the opera house. Didn't Madame Giry ever tell you?" He said, incredulous. She shook her head no and sat down next to him.

"Tell me, I need to know." She said, pleading.

He turned to her and related Madame Giry's tale, sparing no details. Christine sat listening, wide eyed, her pity and compassion for her Angel growing.

"Oh that poor man! How lonely he must have been. What rage he must have felt." she said, tears coming to her eyes. "Now I understand him better."

_Oh, why didn't he just trust me enough to open up to me. _

"His horrible past is not an excuse for his horrible deeds." Said Raoul, not wanting to wallow too deeply in pity for the man who tried to kill him not once, not twice…

"No, it doesn't justify it Raoul. It just explains it," she said, strangely distant, staring out the window. Raoul looked down.

_Now is as good a time as any._

"Christine, now it is I who must be honest with you." He reached out for her hand. She looked at him, wondering what was troubling him so.

"Today, at the square, the man I found, he was not the Phantom, but he was wearing the Phantom's cloak. You were right. The man said that he had taken the cloak, stolen the cloak off the body of a dead freak, as he put it. He had found his dead body in a ditch by the side of a road. I can only assume he meant…"

"Please, say no more." She said, cutting Raoul off, reeling from the shock of hearing that the Phantom, her angel was now dead. Somehow, she managed to speak clearly and calmly, temporarily quieting the volcano of sadness rumbling inside her.

"Thank you for telling me everything, Raoul. We must send word to Madame Giry. she would probably be the only other person who would care that he is…" her voice cracked. "Please leave me alone now. I need to be by myself tonight." She looked out the window, barely able to hold herself together. She desperately wanted Raoul to go, she wanted to mourn for her dead angel by herself. Raoul hesitated.

"But, Christine…" he started. She swung around, angry now.

"Raoul, I have the rest of my life to spend with you. If you truly love me, you will give me this night. I owe him that much," she said, standing strong.

"You owe him nothing." he countered. She shot him a glare through misty eyes, welling up with tears.

"Raoul, would you deny a dead man some love? Would you deny me the chance to mourn him? He is no longer any concern to you."

Raoul nodded and left the room. The door closed and the flood began. A part of him ached to hold her as her sobbing began. He stayed outside, knowing she would find not find any comfort in his presence tonight.

Christine fell to the floor on her knees, shaking and sobbing "Oh God, oh God, no! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She prayed that somehow, the Phantom could sense her pain, the pain of knowing he was gone.

Later that night, her cries finally slowed down enough for Christine to breathe. She had fallen down on the floor of her room and had not moved an inch. Standing up and wiping away the tears, she walked over to her wardrobe. Ceremoniously, she changed into a dark dress and placed a lacy black scarf over her head. Sitting in front of her mirror, the woman she saw looked the part, like a widow.

The times she and the Phantom had actually spent together were so few, precious like gold, but intense like the heat of the sun. He had been her betrothed, if only for a short while. She had worn his ring. She felt that it would be right to mourn him as a lover would. A little bit of kindness given as tribute to her Angel of Music. A private funeral procession.

She opened her door slowly. It was late, everyone in the manor house was either asleep or holed up in their rooms. Slowly, she walked down the stairs and tiptoed out to the rose garden, her black slippers allowing the cold dampness to chill her feet. She walked among the red roses, picking a particularly beautiful bud. She tied a black ribbon around it, just as he had done in the past, barely able to hold back tears. Holding the rose close to her heart, she walked around the garden to where the statue of an angel stood.

Before the angel, she kneeled down, the tears starting to run again. She started to pray softly for him, begging God to have mercy on his tortured soul, to forgive him for his misdeeds. The heartfelt tears ran from her, unfettered. She cried for his pain, his loneliness, guilty for never soothing him. She cried for the man who died as he had always been: alone

_I was the only light in his darkness, and I betrayed him too_.

Her raven locks became wet with her tears, her body shaking with her silent sobs. Once she could control her breathing, she softly sang a song, a lullaby, for all the lullabies he never heard as a child.

Finally, she walked back to her room, exhausted, her vision cloudy from the tears. She changed into a dark nightgown and held the rose she had picked in her hand. Kissing the fragrant bud, she then placed it down on a pillow on her bed. She crawled into bed, curling her body around the pillow with the rose.

"Goodbye, my angel." she said softly, as sleep quieted her cries. Her impassioned cries echoed out the window, headed westward on a zephyr, to a quiet manor house in Capellen.

In a quiet bedroom in Capellen manor, Erik tossed and turned in his sleep. Hazy in his dream state, he felt aware of a presence and thought he smelled the scent of a woman. He felt the sensation of an icy cold kiss on his cheek and a faint heaviness against his arm. He smiled as he imagined the slight tickle of soft hair moving against his skin, warming his shoulder. He felt the distinct, ghostly sensation of a body next to him.

_Oh, no, not again. Why can't my visions, my demons let me sleep? At least, this time my dream specter's sensations are pleasant, not just some masked man laughing at me. This time, it feels so real…_

He turned his head to the right and opened his eyes lazily only to blink them repeatedly. He could not believe what he was seeing….


	14. Chapter 14

Chapt. 14

Erik blinked his eyes a number of times, and tried to turn his left wrist. He felt a shot of pain from the fracture site that assured him he was indeed, awake. He moved his right arm, so that his hand could touch the dark tresses. Oh yes, she was real enough.

There she was, the Tigress, curled up next to him underneath the sheets.

Angelique moaned gently and moved closer to him, her body cold but warming up nicely against his. He craned his neck to look at her face. Her head was on his shoulder just inches away. With the alluring scent of a musky perfume was the strong, unmistakable scent of alcohol on the breath coming from her nostrils. It was perfumed with a sweet liquor, he was certain, and whiskey, definitely. Much too much whiskey. The Tigress had partaken heartily of the nectar of disinhibition.

Awkward did not come close to describing how he felt. His tattered mind immediately split between rational thoughts and a place where physical desire ruled. His brain struggled to formulate a plan while other thoughts flew through his mind, none of them honorable.

_What a fine mess I am in this evening._

"Angelique, I don't think this is a good idea," Erik whispered, mainly to himself. But he could not deny it; he was physically enjoying her presence. He allowed himself to stare at her perfectly painted face for several minutes. Yes, she was very beautiful up close, too. A pang of pain went through his chest.

_She would not let me this close to her if she were not so…unconscious._

His love-starved body had longed for the touch of a woman. Her aura was awakening carnal desires, despite his dread. His heart began to beat rapidly, as his body responded automatically to the presence of a woman's soft skin against his.

_I have to get her out of here. _The rational side of his brain insisted.

He cursed at his injuries, and for the first time, he felt truly lame. He looked up briefly at the cord hanging over his headboard, and then shook his head, quickly ruling out that possibility. No, he needed someone who would be able to keep his or her mouth shut. That ruled out just about everyone, except for Elaine. How would he explain the presence of her best friend in his bed? He did not ask Angelique to come here. Yet he still felt guilty; his body definitely wanted her to stay.

_I need to move, I can't think straight with her breathing on me like this. _

He started to pull his arm away from under her head slowly, slowly.

"Ummh." She moaned in the most painfully arousing tone he could have imagined.

He froze in place, not wanting to stir her awake. For a second he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that she had fallen back into whatever drunken sleep she was in.

_Oh no._

She stretched her body out long like a cat then curled up once more against his side, her warm breasts round and firm against the side of his chest and her thigh inching its way up his. Clumsy with drink, her hand meandered over his body, then lazily found its way to his face.

He turned his head hard into the pillow in order to bury the deformed side from her wandering fingers. Even drunk as hell, the seductress moved with precise slowness. Her graceful fingers caressed his face, running through his hair then moved to part his lips.

His mouth opened as if told to. She wet her fingers on his tongue. The taste buds in his mouth awoke with the flavor of the sweet liquor she had let drip on her fingers. The fingers traced and wet his lips.

Through eyes, half shut with desire, he looked at her face. Her eyes were closed and heavy. She wore the most seductive little smile, her wicked tongue licking at her own ruby lips. He closed his eyes tightly. He could not watch that display and remain in control for long.

_Glad you are enjoying this torture, Angelique. Tigress indeed. _

Erik groaned internally as wet, warm fingers moved down his neck, leaving a cool trail that sent all manner of sensations down his already extremely frustrated body. He struggled to maintain a slow steady breathing pattern, attempting to feign sleep, but his heart was beating too fast.

His pectoral muscles tensed as her hand rubbed his chest, and her nails sensuously scraped at his skin like a predator, toying with its prey before the kill. A low growl came from her throat. He gasped as she fondled one of his nipples, sending waves of burning pleasure through his chest. Her hands stealthily pushed open his shirt. His abdomen tensed in anticipation.

_Please, please stop!_

His mind pleaded for an end to this, his body ignored any signals to thwart her efforts. The conflict was like a war in his head. Who would win?

_Oh God, please,no…_

Her skilled hands reached his stomach and played the well defined muscles, as if running her fingers up and down the keys of a piano, up and down…

And down…and down.

He could no longer move; the desirous inferno within him would not let him move as her hand found its plaything between his legs. His clothing was loose enough to provide no significant barricade. His neck arched back as her hand began to stroke him like a beloved pet, then more firmly, again and again. His eyes rolled back and his mouth opened with a deep silent moan.

_STOP NOW! _

His rational mind screamed within his head, but every nerve in his body was on fire, every muscle was tensed. His uninjured hand clutched at the bed sheet, ripping the fabric. His broken arm and leg ached with the tension of contracted muscles. He tasted a salty, metallic taste in his mouth. Blood; he had bitten something, but his mind was too busy to interpret pain. All he could sense was the incredible, intense pleasure coming from his loins.

_What if Elaine would happen upon you now? With her best friend like this! Is it worth the risk?_

His mind screamed to recruit him. All he could manage was a few labored gasps.

_If this goes on any longer, she will wake up screaming! Can you really resist pounding yourself into her? Then you will be held responsible for your actions. You must stop this!_

His head boomed with pain…

_Holy hell! If this is what she does when she is dead drunk…_

Mercifully, (or not, depending on your point of view) the last shot of liquor must have taken effect on the vile temptress in his bed. Her hand went limp on his throbbing groin. If only his body could do the same.

_This is my life. A professional seductress bitch teasing me to death in a drunken stupor. Making me want to peel off my own skin to stop this sweet, sweet torture._

Erik took that fleeting moment of self control to ease his trembling, viciously aroused body off the edge of the bed away from her. If he could have detached his arm to get away, he would have. Miraculously, he slid his arm out from under her head and collapse into a sweaty, twitching mess onto the floor writhing in unbelievable frustration. He wrapped his arm around his eyes and banged his head against the floor.

_I could have stopped this sooner. When you play with fire…_

He cursed at himself, curling up into a ball, groaning in pain. The pounding, intense aching in his head was only surmounted by the throbbing in his groin that was making his head spin. A trip to the stake, flames lapping at his body was beginning to sound better than this. Better yet, what he really needed was a trip into a lake full of ice…

_You damn bitch. You damn drabenhgi whore. I'll never forgive you for this, never Christine…_

The name which had revealed itself in a fit of sexually frustrated rage resounded in his head. His mind blurred.

_…I mean Angelique. Who the hell is Christine?_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapt 15

It was early morning; light had just started to peek through the window as Erik stirred on the carpet. He wondered why he was lying on the floor for an instant, shivering as his clothes clung to him.

_Oh, yes. How can I ever forget._

The pain in his arm and leg was immense and his body ached from lying on the hard floor. He struggled to pull himself onto the chaise lounge that was beside the bed. At least the pain in his groin was gone. He looked up.

_Ah, damn it. She is still here._

He turned himself to lie down on the chair, facing away from the bed, and let out a groan as his body rebelled.

Angelique blinked a few times and struggled to asses what she saw. She was in a bed, facing the door in a dimly lit room. She put her hand up to her throbbing head.

_When will I learn? I should not have finished that last bottle of whiskey. Where am I? Oh, at Elaine's._ _Oh, my head. Where is she anyway?_

She heard a low grunt behind her and turned around quickly.

There was a tall man with disheveled brown hair and messy clothes in an awkward position on the chaise lounge; she could not tell if she was getting up or lying down. His head was facing away from her.

She gasped and the man turned around quickly to look back at her. Their eyes met in surprise. She screamed.

"Oh my God!" She shouted "Who the hell are you! Get away from me, you, you monster!"

There it was. Just what Erik had expected to hear one day; from her and others like her.

Her expression changed rapidly from surprise to a combination of fear and disgust right before his eyes. He could practically feel the instant hatred projected at him as her stare burned into his face. For the first time at Capellen, he felt deeply ashamed and angry.

He was nearly knocked over by the first pillow that she threw, but was prepared for the next one that he fended off successfully with his right arm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her pick up a ceramic vase.

"Angelique, Stop!" He yelled. She froze in shock as she heard her name. "I already have two broken limbs and head injury. Please don't throw that, I promise not to harm you in any way." His voice was low and growling.

_Even though wringing your pretty little neck seems like a good idea right now. Maybe she is just surprised this beast in front of her could talk. My, my. You were acting just a little differently a mere few hours ago_. He looked at her darkly.

"Then what the hell are you doing in my room?" She shouted, holding the vase up, still ready to propel it. His words did not put her at ease. His appearance, his face scared her, but it was the look in his eyes that really sent shivers down her spine. It was of pain and anger, like a dog that had just been kicked.

"I beg to differ woman; this is MY room and it is MY bed in which you lay!" he said, breathing hard, wanting to turn his head away from her disgusted gaze, but not willing to lose sight of the vase. "You wandered in here last night, drunk as hell and decided to make yourself comfortable in my bed."

"What?" Her brows knitted in confusion, the arm with the vase lowering. She looked at the disheveled bed and then back at him. Her jaw dropped and she shook her head.

"Did anything… did we?" Angelique asked in a low voice.

The look on her face was of such distain that, just for spite, he wanted to tell her horrible things that would make her ashamed. But he held back.

"No. Don't fret. I slept here to keep your 'modesty' intact." he placed a sarcastic emphasis on the word modesty. He could not help himself. She looked relieved.

"Thank goodness." Angelique said, before she had the good sense to shut her mouth.

"Is just the possibly of me being with you THAT bad?" Erik said in a low voice, barely audible. A second later, it only made him feel worse. He was drowning in embarrassment. He his eyes were piercing as he looked up at her.

A whole host of emotions paraded across her face before his eyes. Shock, realization, embarrassment, then pity. Pity was the worst. He dropped his gaze from her face.

Angelique took a moment to give closer inspection to the man on the lounge chair. He was injured, with splints on his arm and one on his leg. She had not noticed that before. He had some bruises on his arm and several wounds on his head and neck. The large mark on his face distorted the whole right side, but other than the mark, he was actually quite normal looking.

_Oh, no. Could this be the man Elaine was talking about last night? The man with the scarred face, the musician who has amnesia? This is the man who Elaine...? Oh, good God. I just spent the last two minutes insulting him horribly. _

"Erik?" She finally said, in a small voice. He looked up at her as she said his name. The expression he had on his face was painful to see. Angelique put her hands over her face with regret. She could not look at him anymore. She could not believe how insensitive she had been.

"I can't believe what I just said…I'm sorry, Erik." Angelique said, knowing it would probably do no good.

Elaine had stirred when she heard Angelique's scream. She jumped up to her feet from the couch in the sitting room, where her and Angelique had been drinking and laughing through the night about old times. She nearly fell over immediately, her head throbbing from the liquor. She heard Angelique shout again, then Erik. Her headache suddenly dissolved.

_What the hell is going on?_ She thought as she stumbled out to the hall. Erik's room door was slightly opened. She raced down the hall and pushed open the door to witness quite the scene.

A much disheveled Angelique was in Erik's much disheveled bed, pillows lying on the floor. Erik was slumped over on the chaise lounge, looking quite disheveled as well. Both of them stared at her wordlessly as she walked in. Everyone knew what it looked like.

"What the hell happened here?" She said, looking back and forth between the two. Angelique had a guilty look on her face. And as for Erik, Elaine had never seen Erik so upset and angry appearing. His usually soft green eyes were gray and steely, his brows knit. Erik was the first to talk.

"Your friend here decided that she wanted to sleep in this bed last night. So, I slept here, on the chair." He was hoping the simple, direct answer was enough.

"I don't remember anything, I must have blacked out." Angelique said, going for short and sweet, too. She crawled out of the bed and stood to face Elaine.

Elaine passed her with a scowl on her face and went to kneel before Erik's downward gaze. "Are you alright?" she said softly, sensing something was very, very wrong.

He looked at her with pain and anger in his eyes.

"I'm fine." He said. Elaine reached up to touch his lip, where a new scab had formed. A trickle of dried blood ran out of the corner of his mouth. She held his hand gently. Elaine turned around and looked sharply at Angelique.

"Did you hit him, Angelique?" She said, accusingly.

"I didn't touch him!" Angelique responded. Neither woman missed the cold, angry glare that passed from Erik to Angelique.

"I just must have bitten my lip in my sleep, Elaine. You know the nightmares I get." he said, teeth clenched. "This couch is not very comfortable, and my arm and leg are aching right now." He was desperately trying to explain away everything, including his peculiar actions. Elaine helped Erik get up and back into the bed.

Angelique was touched at how gentle they were towards each other. She just turned and silently left the room, feeling terrible.

"Are you sure you are fine? Is that all that happened?" Elaine said, looking deeply in his eyes as he sat down on the bed, wincing in pain.

"Must have been a bad nightmare this time." Erik said, struggling for a smile. "Go to her, Elaine. I think she feels bad about pushing me out of my bed. I'll survive. " He reached over and pulled the cord to call for someone downstairs. "Someone else can help me tidy up. Don't worry about it. " He wanted her to go; he could not put up his charade anymore.

"Alright, Erik. But call me if you need me." She said, turning to leave, as he obviously wished.

"Need you? That would be always, Elaine." he whispered to himself as he watched her exit the room.

Elaine stamped down the hall, fuming, towards the room where Angelique was staying. She pulled herself together and calmed down a bit. She opened the door to face Angelique, who was standing in the middle of the room clenching her hands, her eyes wet.

"I'm so sorry Elaine…" she started.

"What did you do to him?" Elaine said. Angelique started to babble through tears.

"Elaine, when I woke up, I was so shocked to be there. I was so shocked to have him be there, then I saw his face, he frightened me. I don't believe I called him a monster, right to his face, not after what you told me last night."

"A monster, Angelique? I don't remember much about what I told you but…a monster?" Elaine winced at the thought of it. Angelique covered her face, and was crying, sinking to the floor.

"God, the look he gave me. I hurt him, I know. I.. I know how much he means to you. How could I be such a bitch? I am so sorry, Elaine!"

"I think it is Erik you have to apologize to for that insult." Elaine said sternly.

"Yes, I know. I don't know if I can face him again. I said those horrible things before I realized who he was," she sobbed.

"How many injured men with deformities do you think we have around here?" Elaine snapped.

"Elaine, I just was not thinking. It was just a really bad slip of the tongue."

"No, Angelique, that was beyond rude."

Elaine's compassion got the better of her again. Elaine tucked away her anger, walked up to Angelique and pulled her up, placing an arm around her shoulders. They walked to the bed and sat down.

"Alright, Angelique, you can't change it now. It is done. But that was not really what I was referring to." Elaine got up and walked a few steps away from her. She turned around and gave her a suspicious look.

"I don't follow you," said Angelique, between sniffles. She was puzzled by Elaine's expression.

"We both know the look of an extremely frustrated man when we see it." Elaine said.


	16. Chapter 16

Chap 16

After Elaine left, Erik fell backward into the bed, hoping to disappear into the oblivion of sleep, but he got up immediately. The stale scent of alcohol and the scent of musky perfume were still on the sheets. He turned around and ripped the sheets off angrily with his good hand. As he did that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. To be honest, he did look rather frightful at that moment. His angry, hurt eyes were intense and the scowl on his face just accentuated his deformity. His hair was a stringy mess around his face, his clothes were unkempt. He grabbed the vase Angelique had threatened him with, held it in his shaking hand, intending to hurl it into the gilded mirror at the beast he saw before him.

Despite his urge to destroy the mere sight of himself, he did not want to destroy the property of his gracious hosts. His hand loosened, the vase rolled of the bed onto the carpet with a thud.

He turned his eyes away from the truthful plate of glass and grabbed at his hair, eyes wincing, his mouth opening in a tortured, silent scream. He turned his tightly wound body into the bed and curled into a ball on the bare mattress and rammed his injured arm into the headboard just to make it hurt, to distract his mind from the thoughts in his head that were more painful.

_A monster. An animal. Not fit to touch, to be loved. How can I be sure that Elaine does not feel the same way, deep inside? How do I know that she is not just tolerating me, bearing my awful appearance? How Elaine, her father, or Nate could stand to be around me is such a mystery to me. This is true: they are workers of the healing arts. It is their job to show no deference. They treat me with such kindness because I am a patient of theirs. _

A wave of sad realization washed over him.

_So that is it. I am just a patient to her, something to heal and send on its way. That must be it. She is too beautiful a woman, inside and out, to show any favor to a beast like me. _

Within the last twelve hours, he had sensed things within himself that were disturbing. There, he felt the inklings of a deep, burning hatred, a tendency for rage, and a familiarity with committing brutality. Those characteristics were contrary to the man he wanted to be, especially around Elaine. He knew that when his memory returned, he would find the origins of those feelings, and many other dreadful things.

_No, I cannot let Elaine be with that type of man. I have to protect her from it; even if I have to protect her from myself. How can I? Oh God, I have started to fall for her. A sweet woman, a sweet love, unobtainable._

He began to weep in earnest. A nagging sensation, a faint wisp of a memory invaded his thoughts.

_Why do I feel like I have been here before?_

A little voice inside his aching head began to invade his thoughts. It was his rational side, the side hanging onto survival, the side that had been desperately trying to pull him away from Angelique.

_Erik, you damn fool. With the way you look, you must develop some thicker skin, or else you might as well just shove the dagger in your heart and end it now. Don't let every idiot with an opinion rattle you. And stop wallowing in your own self hatred. There will be enough people who will hate you for no good reason, even though they may take some liberty with your loins. Don't join them in their ridicule. Your past is tucked away right now; somewhere you can only see glimpses of it. Looks horrible, does it not? Leave it there, hidden, unseen. Create new memories. Start fresh, build a new man. You have much work to do. Get up off your pathetic ass._

He could be so honest and cruel with himself. It came from spending an entire life alone to reflect, he suspected. He stretched out on the bed and breathed.

_Anger, directed properly, can cure inaction. Directed poorly, it can also destroy. Use your emotions wisely Erik, they are powerful, powerful things._

A strong knock broke the silence in the room.

"Hello, Erik. It's me, Nate," said the familiar voice outside his door.

Erik growled a little for the intrusion, because he felt he was finally just beginning to make some sense within his own mind. He was actually glad it was Nate.

_Oh yes, I did ring the bell to call someone. Now I can see how it works. That is good to know._

"Come in Nate." Erik said, sitting up. He was still visibly upset, but the swift kick in the rear that he had given himself was working nicely.

"You rang?" Nate said with a smile as he opened the door widely. Nate's eyes swept the room and took inventory of the mess. He looked at the unkempt version of Erik on the bed. The door shut quickly behind him and one eyebrow rose in curiosity. "I heard some shouting earlier. Would you mind explaining to me what happened?" he said crossing his arms.

"Nothing, Nate. Nothing today, at least." Erik said. Nate shot him a glance before picking up the pillows on the floor.

_Nothing, indeed. The man looks like someone hit him and ran away._

"The gals were having a little private affair last night. They often get a bit tipsy together when Angelique comes to visit, and tend to get a bit loud. I hope they did not keep you up last night. " Nate was trying to urge Erik to talking.

"No, just Angelique," Erik said, answering truthfully. "Let's just say, I had a couple of run-ins with your Tigress; last night and this morning." The effect of his statement was unintentional, but priceless. The expression on Nate's face was one mischievous interest. Even in his despair, it still made Erik want to laugh out loud.

_God bless you Nate. You are just what the doctor ordered for my aching soul this morning. So, am I going to ease your curiosity? Ride the innuendo out for a while, even if it is a farce? Actually, in a way, what I insinuated was not a total lie._

But he would never tell Nate, or anyone, about the occurrences of the evening.

"Are you alright now?" Said Nate, with a terrible attempt to hide a smirk.

"None the worse for wear." Said Erik, trying hard to continue the charade.

"I see that. She can be a bit harsh, I hear." said Nate, his eyes smiling.

"Yes she can." Erik's smile faded. "It's not like you think." He could not continue with the false pretense.

Nate noticed the change in Erik's demeanor immediately. It was as if a shade had been pulled. For once, Nate held his tongue; he walked over to sit on the bed in an uncomfortable silence, looking periodically at Erik. Erik was silent, with a mist of gloom over his downcast eyes.

_I can only imagine what she did to you. She is gentle on the eyes, but can be a danger to the heart. _

"You can talk to me about it when you feel up to it, Erik." Nate said as he got up and moved towards the bathroom. Erik looked up at Nate. Nate he just met, but somehow, he trusted him. For some reason, he felt he could trust Nate with his life.

"You know Nate, for a few precious days, without my memories to remind me, I was almost able to forget…this," Erik said, motioning to his face. "Everyone I have met thus far here, every one, all treated me as if I was a normal human being. I don't believe how wonderful you all have been. Something tells me I have never experienced such kindness like this from strangers. For the briefest moment, I allowed myself to think that I could be just like everyone else. Until Angelique just reminded me. I am not normal. That is just a dream, and my life the nightmare. I dread my past, Nate." Erik cast his eyes down, unable to say more.

_What a bitch._ Nate thought, his heart breaking at hearing Erik speak.

"Don't listen to whatever that wretched woman said. You are a normal human being, flesh and bone and when you are hurt, you feel pain." Nate placed a solid hand on his shoulder. "We all have strengths and weakness, even Mrs. Perfect. For instance, not everyone can play the piano like you. With one arm no less. I have to admit though; you do look a little bit scruffy right now. But not so unusual for what you have been through. How does a nice warm bath sound to you?"

"I suddenly feel quite disgusting, Nate. I will take you up on the offer. It sounds like a fine idea." Erik answered.

After preparing the bath, Nate carefully took the splints off Erik's arm and leg.

"Dr. Conrad trained me in the more technical aspects of medicine. He taught me a few things so I could assist him more readily when brought me here from Paris to practice here in Capellen. I was just but a boy back then…"

Erik got lost in Nate's incessant banter, which was actually quite comforting to him now. He half listened to Nate and let his mind wander. Even though he enjoyed the time spent with Elaine and craved her closeness, it was difficult for him to be around her on a deeper level. She commanded his entire concentration, and stimulated him on an emotional level as well as physically and mentally. With Nate he could just exist.

Nate helped Erik gingerly lower himself into the hot bath. He had to be particularly aware of his injured arm and leg, which were now without the protection of the splints. Under the water, the partially healed bones were supported. The sensation was divine. Cold, aching joints were loosening, and his skin welcomed the slight burn of the hot water. As Erik was melting into the waters, Nate unceremoniously shoved soap and a washcloth into his chest.

"You have to do this part. I was never real good with the bathing people thing. Now, if you were a woman that would be a different story." Nate chuckled.

"No thank you, I'll take it from here." Erik smiled, despite his low mood.

Nate placed a stack of towels within reach of the tub. "I have to get some replacements for your splints, and some other clothes. Real ones, not just pajamas. That will go far in making you feel better. Are you going to be alright for the next twenty minutes or so?"

"Yes, fine. And thank you for everything, Nate." Said Erik.

"Ah, it's nothing. What are brothers for?" Nate said in his jolly tone, getting up to leave.

"Pardon? I don't know what you mean." Erik fixed his eyes on Nate.

"Brothers? We are blood brothers, you and I." He smiled. "When you were injured that night, you needed blood, so I gave you a transfusion. My blood runs through your veins now, my friend. See here?" Nate pulled up his sleeve to show the scar the rather large needle had left in the crook of his arm. Erik was speechless for a second. The words 'my friend' hit a chord within him.

"So therefore I owe you my life. I am forever in your debt, Nate." Erik stared at Nate, touched at how a perfect stranger would give him such a precious gift.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. We must give credit where it is due. It was Elaine who kept you alive, I just helped. She stayed by your side night and day until you regained consciousness. She was so worried about you." Nate smiled, remembering the tenderness with which Elaine treated this scarred, injured stranger. It was as if her will kept him alive.

"Yes. She has done her job and taken care of this patient quite well." Erik said, with a touch of bitterness, looking away sadly. Nate laughed a big belly laugh. Erik looked up at him, a little perturbed at the laughter.

"Oh, that is rich, Erik." Nate said, continuing to laugh softly. He stopped when he saw Erik's serious expression. "You don't see it, do you?" Erik shook his head, becoming more confused by the second. Nate walked over to the tub and squatted, resting his two big forearms on the edge of the tub.

"If you are just a patient, Erik, I am just a lowly stable boy."

Back in Angelique's room, the women's conversation continued.

"Oh, yes. I think I saw what you mean. Frustration." Said Angelique. That was the first thing she thought about upon awakening and seeing Erik in the context of the state of the bed. After the projectiles and insults, of course. "I thought I just was sensing a bit of inexperience on his part." Elaine's jaw dropped.

"What? And how would you know about that?"

"Listen Elaine, as God as my witness, I swear upon the Sisterhood: I do not remember doing anything to him in any way. There is also no evidence, physically on my part, that anything happened. I asked him point blank. He denied it. I don't remember anything at all. Besides Elaine, I would never hurt you intentionally. You have to believe me. Elaine," Angelique insisted.

"Then answer me! How do you know about his experience or lack thereof as you have suggested?" She attacked.

"Oh please Elaine, I can practically smell a virginal man a mile away. I don't need to touch them," Answered Angelique, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. Elaine grunted. If it was anyone who could actually smell a male virgin, it was Angelique. It was like a sixth sense. Elaine flopped down on the bed next to her friend.

"Damn it. He won't tell me if anything happened," Elaine said, a little miffed. "I know what you can be like, even after drinking enough liquor to drop a horse."

Angelique walked over to her belongings and pulled out a little apothecary's box. The box and the knowledge of how to use the medicinals inside were a gift from her late mother, a Gypsy Healer, a Drabenhgy. The knowledge these women possessed were legendary, dangerous, and deadly. She opened it and looked at Elaine

"We have ways to make him talk. Just slip him a little of this," she held up a vial with brown powder "and he will tell you anything you want to know. It's the least I can do." She said, acting more like her old seductive self.

"I am not going to drug him, Angelique." Elaine said, handing her back the vial after a brief hesitation. Elaine was ashamed at herself for actually thinking about it for a split second.

"Really? As you wish. Oh, and you should take my supply of this. Just as a precaution, my dear." Angelique handed her a bag with ground herbs and seeds. "Just seep a teaspoon in hot water, lots of sugar and eat the dregs. You remember the drill, don't you?"

Elaine realized what it was. It was the gypsy tea that was used to render a woman temporarily infertile. Elaine had used this concoction in her heyday, during her exploits with Angelique. Angelique had been using it for years with no ill effects, and no children.  
Elaine stared at the bag, confused.

"Why do you think I would need this?" Elaine suddenly realized all the references that Angelique had been making all morning about her and Erik. "Angelique, what the hell did I tell you about him last night?"

"And you were mad at me for not remembering. Oh, my dear, we must talk. I remember our conversation quite well." said Angelique, shaking her head, putting her arm around Elaine's shoulder.


	17. Chapter 17

Chap 17

_Damn. It is really rather difficult to lather up a washcloth with one hand._

A simple bath was proving to be quite the ordeal. Erik was frustrating himself with his attempt to clean himself single handedly. He ended up doing some awkward motions to accomplish what everyone else would perform as routine. He had already realized he had to use an extra gentle touch on his injured arm and leg, as the pain he experienced he was less than gentle demonstrated several minutes before. He had scrubbed at his face roughly, though, making the partially healed wounds bleed again. The little crimson droplets rolled down his chin unto the water and dispersed in swirls as his hand passed underneath.

_Beauty is everywhere; you just have to open your eyes to see it._

He focused on the multicolored bruises on his left arm, and dared to move his fingers a little. He needed to know, despite the pain every little movement produced. They were stiff, but all worked. Even the swollen pinkie moved. He was elated. He would be able to play his music again after all. After lathering up his hair, he sunk down into the water; eyes closed and shook his head. Under the water, the warmth on his face felt like the caress of warm, soft hands.

He stayed underwater until the burning in his lungs was no longer bearable. Gasping, he shot up, and let the warm water run in rivers down his flesh. He blinked his eyes open and pushed aside the curtain of warm hair. The water was now a slight reddish color, with soap bubbles afloat, a testament to the amount of blood that had permeated his hair from the attack. He lay back with his head hanging over the edge of the tub and closed his eyes, letting himself relax. The warm, soft water now caressed his body. His mind floated and he allowed himself to fantasize a little.

_So, if that was Elaine last night, what would I have done differently? I would have remained in the bed, of course. How good that would have felt._

His body grew aroused immediately. His mind urged him to give up this line of thinking. 

_Stop dreaming._

He opened his eyes and saw the dark gloom of a cave, the same damp cave he saw at the piano yesterday. Candles were everywhere. He was wet, cold, walking in green water.

_This time I will not lose consciousness._

He was determined to see this memory through to completion. In the haze of memory, he saw himself walking towards a set of stone stairs, bent over, dripping. The faintest sense of a pain was in his chest. The pain was not physical; it was the pain of heartache. He looked behind him, out over a body of green water within the cave to a metal gate. In front of the gate was a man, seemingly attached to the gate struggling in the thigh deep water as woman in a white dress rushed towards him. He could not tell why the man was struggling. His vision was diverted back to the stairs where he continued slowly walking up.

"Take her. Forget me…" he heard himself say. The next thing he saw was a woman in white, walking towards him.

_The same woman was at the gate… _

Just her appearance tugged at his heart, the pain in his chest rising with a crescendo as she approached. She was so beautiful, so innocent. Stark white skin was surrounded by dark curls, and deep chocolate eyes were directed towards him. Her expression was one of sadness? Pity? Fear? It was hard to decipher. A name came to mind.

_Christine. _ Her hand reached out to him.

"Oh my God, Erik!" Erik heard a muffled voice say. He blinked and in an instant he was staring through a diffuse reddish cloud. He inhaled…a second later he was sorry he did.

Strong arms shot into the bath, wrapped under his shoulders and pulled Erik's head up and out of the water. Nate was leaning over him, a look of fear in his face, drenched.

Erik coughed up water for a good five minutes.

As he was remembering, his body had slipped under the warm waters. His consciousness was so glued onto the memory that he did not notice he was drowning. The checks and balances that one's body did to prevent death were too easy for his mind to override.

"I'm sorry Nate," Erik struggled to say between fits of coughing.

"Don't you ever do that again!" Nate shouted, angry. "What were you thinking?"

"I can't explain it, Nate. I was just remembering something," Erik sputtered.

"Well no more remembering if it is going to kill you!" He bellowed, walking around the bathroom to disperse his anger.

_If he would have died, I would never have forgiven myself. This man has come to far only to let him drown in a bathtub because of my negligence. ._

"I did not even realize I had slipped under the water. I was in another world. I did not do it on purpose. I was not trying to harm myself." Erik said, trying to convince him.

"Let's get you out of here." Nate continued to grumble as he walked a towel covered Erik into the bedroom. He applied the new splints onto his arm and leg after drying the skin.

"These splints are less bulky, but stronger, reinforced with metal plates. I'll leave the fingers on your left hand exposed, except for the small finger; that was the one that was broken, actually, dislocated." Nate explained, calming himself down. Nate used his ability to babble well.

"Thanks again Nate. And again, I am so sorry. Can you accept a brother's apology?" Erik asked.

"Let's not make a habit of this, shall we? I don't think my heart can handle it. You are going to be the death of me one day." Nate gave him a half smile.

Nate helped Erik dress himself in some of Dr. Dyson's old clothing, when he was more slender, and stood taller. It fit him perfectly. Nate handed him a comb to fix his hair. Erik winced as he pulled through the knots because combing also pulled on the wounds on his head. Once that was done, Nate helped him up onto his crutches. 

"Marjorie said you were about the same size Dr. Conrad was a number of years ago. She is his nurse but also his seamstress, and a damn good one at that. Well, she was right. These clothes look like they were made for you. Not bad, not bad at all," Nate said, standing with his arms crossed in front of Erik. He had a look of satisfaction on his face. "See for yourself." 

Nate turned Erik around to look at the mirror that he had almost smashed. He was pleasantly surprised. Before him stood a gentleman wearing a white shirt, black smoking jacket and loose dark pants. The crutches were still there. His hair appeared quite dark because it was wet. It was wavy, but more controlled than the stringy mess it had been before. As he leaned forward on his crutches, the dark wet locks dropped forward, partially obscuring the deformed side of his face. It made him look almost acceptable.

_Human. Yes, definitely human now. _ Erik thought.

"Well Erik, now that you are dressed, I shall have to go and change into some dry clothes. I seem to be a bit wet, thanks to you." Nate walked to the door of the room, smirking. "Breakfast will be in about an hour. You should join us downstairs."

"I think I shall." Erik said, after thinking for a minute. He was feeling more confident.

After Nate left, Erik hobbled over to the table where his journal lay. He opened it and looked at the drawing of Elaine. His finger traced the outline of her face and neck slowly. He touched the cheek gently. He closed the book and then his eyes. The words Nate had said about Elaine in the bathroom earlier that morning returned to him.

_Maybe, just maybe? No. Stop falling for her, dreaming about her. You will only be disappointed and get hurt. _

His heart ached a little and he heard a whimper come from his throat.

No, it was not from his throat. He heard the noise again. Moving over to the door quietly, he opened it and listened carefully. Now there was a sound that pained him to the bottom of his soul.

The muffled sound was a woman crying; the deep, heartfelt sobs, barely perceivable through the closed doors. Slowly he inched his way down the hall, to where the sound was the easiest to hear. He did not know who it was. He raised his hand to touch the door, but hesitated. The sobbing continued, growing worse.

_This is really none of my concern; I should leave her alone… _

"Are you alright?" Erik said, before he could stop the words from jumping out of his mouth. He chastised himself for intruding upon this woman, whoever it may be. The crying stopped suddenly. He heard gentle footsteps nearing the door. Erik fought the internal urge to turn and walk away. 

The door opened. It was Elaine who stood before him.


	18. Chapter 18

Authors note: Warning: This chapter can be disturbing to some. NC-17 for violent situations.

Chap 18

Elaine lay curled up in her bed, exhausted from the morning's occurrences. She decided she would take a quick nap before breakfast, largely to quell her booming headache after her liberty with libations the night before. It felt so good to be so lighthearted with her dear friend yesterday. Things had been so very intense lately, here in Capellen. Her thoughts began to wander, particularly on her conversation with Angelique that morning.

_I can't believe some of the things I told Angelique last night. I didn't realize how deeply I feel for Erik. But why? I don't really know anything about him. He does not even know himself. But I feel he is so much more than he appears. I wonder if there is someone, somewhere waiting for him to come back home. I would be devastated if someone I loved went missing like that. Someone like him…I don't understand why he touches my heart so. _

Her mind lingered on the times she had spent around Erik. She felt a connection with him. She could not explain the attraction.

_Maybe it is just because he is the first man in years that I think I can trust. I feel he has been through so much, and has pain that runs deep. I know that feeling. Oh no._

She trusted no man since the episode in Paris. Covering her eyes, she lay on her back and her body tensed, Disturbing thoughts crept into her mind.

_Not again, not now, I cannot handle it, my head already hurts to much. _

Elaine got up and walked around the room holding on to the furniture to keep herself in the here and now. Once her memories took hold, she usually could not stop them; it was like a steam engine running through her mind. Things around her started to fade. Desperately, she tried to squeeze the images from her head, but the rancid pictures invaded her thoughts and dread continued to fill her chest as she was dragged backwards in time, away from reality into a nightmarish flashback.

_They are out there waiting for you, little woman. They will find you again. You will never be safe; you can never hide from them. The next time, if you are lucky, maybe they will kill you. It would be better that way._

She sunk down to the ground, shaking, the world swimming in her vision. She felt cold, so cold. From her lips came a whimper, a soft cry for help, fear permeating her mind, making her skin crawl.

_Your freedom is already among their spoils. They stole your determination and your pride, child. You don't know them but they know you. They know you very well. Especially that most precious. It is theirs now._

A palpable darkness fell before her eyes. She grasped at the bedpost and buried her face in the bed linens, scraping at the lace as if trying to save her life again. She began to cry audibly, powerless to stop the images parading through her mind.

_All around me... godless creatures with dark, covered faces, menacing eyes, rough hands, grabbing me, covering my mouth, pinning me down. Where are they taking me? Agh, they bind me, their claws are digging into my soul. God help me, please someone help!_

_I can't see, it is so dark, so cold. Why are they so angry? Why do they hit me, growl at me? Why me? What did I do? Why? Oh, my god, no! Pain…pain…my face, my arms, my legs, my body; I hear grunting, laughing…my clothes…good God not that! NO!_

Elaine was shaking terribly now, holding her arms around her legs tightly as if trying to shut them out, shield herself, trying desperately but failing. Her consciousness deep in her inner hell, her body convulsed with the memory of each horrifying shove into her. She felt it again and again, the ripping sensation, the burning of her own muscles as she struggled to stop them. The bastards took turns. Elaine felt physically ill. She leaned over her knees and sobbed between convulsions.

_All I could do was scream. I screamed behind the hands that held my mouth shut, pressed my lips until they bled…then they let me speak. I begged, I pleaded for them to stop...the faceless men laughed and showed no mercy...I don't believe that they did it again...Four, there were four of them…no one heard me…no one helped me…_

"Are you all right?" A low voice, outside her door questioned.

Elaine jumped, her mind brought suddenly into focus, into the safe present, her quiet room. The voice at the door dragged her quickly, mercifully, away from her inner torture. She stood slowly, still shaking, her knees weak and her balance off. Walking softly, she went to the door and opened it.

_Erik. How did you know I needed to be saved?_

A quick glance at Erik's expression was all that she needed to know what she looked like; a mirror would have been useless. His face blanched with shock, his brow raised with concern, his eyes widened.

Erik looked at Elaine's tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

_Something is very, very wrong here with her. _He shot a look around her room, to see if anyone else was there, and then focused on her face, searching her pretty features for an answer.

She stepped mentally away from her anguish and looked at him from the top of his dark, wet hair, and down his clean, neat clothes. He was like a breath of fresh air.

"Erik! You look great." Her attempt at a smile was a failure, and soon, she could not hold back her tears.

"I heard...you…uh. Are you…?" he babbled, tripping on his tongue. He had no idea what to say or do.

"No, I am not alright, Erik," She said, her face dropping and her hands reaching up to dry her tears. She was in too many pieces to feign normality with such short notice.

Erik just stood still and quiet in front of her, waiting for a cue. He thought about leaving, excusing himself from the discomfort of the situation. The obvious distress on Elaine's face would not let him leave. Her eyes rose to meet his. He knew she was hurting. He felt the pain in her eyes as if it was his own. The immensity of it shocked him.

"Do you want me to stay?" He said softly. It was the first logical thing that popped into his head.

She looked into his searching eyes _He can sense it. He can feel it._

"Only if you want to, Erik." She said, sniffling and walking towards the bed slowly, glad to not have to be the one to talk first. He entered the room, no plan in mind. He felt that she needed him to be there. He shut the door softly.

It was a young girl's room, the room where Elaine grew up. She stayed there rarely, but had returned while she was taking care of Erik after his attack. She motioned to a chair and ottoman in which he could make himself comfortable.

_Maybe it is good for me to concentrate on someone else other than me for a while. _He thought.

Elaine observed Erik closely as he walked into the room and sat on the chair, putting up his broken leg on the ottoman. He settled in and turned to her, as if bracing himself. They sat together for several minutes in comfortable, yet uncomfortable silence. Elaine rubbed her face and smoothed her hair, collecting herself.

"I guess you are wondering why I was crying." She said with a calm she did not know was possible so soon.

"You don't have to tell me anything. It is none of my business."

"It is a long story," Elaine said, her soft eyes intense. "Can I trust you?" Inside, she felt she could. Revealing herself, and her darkest days would only make him trust her more.

_You have always been too damn impulsive, Elaine. This too much information to reveal to anyone, much less a strange man._

"Yes, without question," Erik answered immediately. "Of course you can trust me. You saved me. I owe you my life, Elaine." His pale green eyes were fixed upon her, taking in every movement, every breath.

She felt a coolness float over her, his gentle, concerned gaze soothing her. She breathed and distanced herself mentally, beginning to walk slowly around the room. With a glassy look in her eye, she started to recite her story if she was talking about someone else. This was the only way she could do it.

"Let me see if I can explain it to you. It has been quite a few years now. I had always wanted to become a physician, but as you can imagine, that is difficult, being a woman. I had done well in preparatory school so I convinced my father to let me apply to The French Clinical School in Paris, his old medical school. My credentials were excellent, other than my gender. It took a considerable amount of arm twisting by my father and his colleagues to convince the Deans and Professors there to consider my application, but they eventually accepted me."

"I was overjoyed at the acceptance. I had been involved with medicine all my life, thanks to my father. I felt good about my accomplishment, it felt so correct. But nothing could have prepared me for what it was actually like. I was shunned and ostracized by my male counterparts. They were ashamed to have a woman in their class; they felt it was beneath them. I sat alone during most of the lectures, and I had to be exceedingly assertive to learn anything and have my questions heard during the didactic sessions. There were those who I knew did not mind my presence, but anyone who dared speak to me was ridiculed.

My work was good, however, and eventually I gained recognition from even my most prejudiced instructors. One even used me as an example for the others to follow. That favor brought me nothing but bitterness and rivalry from some of the male students."

She walked over to the window, pausing for a moment to look back at him. Erik had rested back in his chair and was listening intently.

_Should I tell him about Kurt? Why stop now? Kurt is a big part of my life, in a way._

"I felt very lonely in Paris, but brushed away the ill feelings by delving deeper into my studies. Eventually, an older student named Kurt ignored the others and approached me. Kurt was from Stockholm and also found Paris to be particularly lonely. He initially had come to me to be his secret tutor. We studied together, and became friends."

"He was volatile and moody and at first I didn't understand why. I eventually discovered that he was inclined to indulge in drink way too much. Every day. All the time. That rendered him useless during the hours when he should have been studying. That was why he was not doing well, because actually, he was very bright. On a particularly festive night, after the first round of exams, our friendship took on a different nature. Our affair was tumultuous. He repeatedly pushed me away emotionally and physically, only to return, groveling, begging for forgiveness and comfort. Through it all, I managed to maintain the quality of my work, but his work began to suffer."

She breathed heavily and wrapped her arms around herself. This was the hard part.

"One night, as I was walking home, I was assaulted, attacked near the clinic by a group of men who had covered their faces with black hoods. They brought me to a dark, cold place and took turns… They…held me down and…"

She went silent and stared outside at a bird flying, as her body started to tremble uncontrollably. Her breath grew quick and labored. She was trying her hardest to hold it together, just for a little longer.

Erik held his breath, appalled by what he was hearing. He did not want to hear anymore, but kept himself still and silent. He was sickened by the thought of her being hurt like that. A rage started to build within him.

"They held my arms and legs and took turns …violating me…raping me. All of them…repeatedly." She could speak no more and closed her eyes, sobbing silently against the window.

Again the heavy silence blanketed the room. Erik could not move or speak; he was mortified. She eventually continued as tears rolled down her cheek.

"They left me in an alleyway, blindfolded, just a block from my apartment. Then is when I realized; they knew where I lived." She cried freely for a minute or two, remembering the terror she felt at that moment. Erik continued to stare at her, horrified.

"Kurt had found me later that evening back in my apartment in a terrible state, but was unable to help much because he was hopelessly drunk. The next day, he managed to take me to the magistrate to lodge a complaint. I explained my situation to the people in charge at the medical school. They allowed me some time off from my studies to 'recover'." She shook her head. "As if it was a god damn fever, could you believe it?"

"Anyone I talked to urged me to be quiet so as not to start a scandal. They wanted me to just try and forget the rape. How was I supposed to do that?" She grabbed onto the anger she felt, tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks. It was easier to manage than the pain and fear.

"With some trepidation, I returned to school after a week, only to find various notes in my books, and on my desk that convinced me that the assailants were indeed, fellow students. Unbeknownst to me, some of the male students had hatched a plot to punish me for my good work. I could not find out who they were. I could not continue on at the Clinic knowing they were there."

_Goddamn bastards! They will pay! _He thought, barely able to hold his ire. She opened a drawer and continued, her face saddened, withdrawn and tired. In her hand was a tattered note.

"To make matters worse, I discovered I was pregnant, and according to the timing, Kurt was the father. When I told him, he vehemently denied it, and pushed me violently away. Two days later, they found him dead in a dark alley on the outskirts of Paris. He had drowned himself in drink for the last time. It was a lethal dose of alcohol and opium, they said. He left me a note apologizing for his actions."

She carefully sat on the ottoman next to his leg and handed him the note. Erik caught the look in her eye; he knew it well. Shame. He read the note, written as if in blood by someone who could not see well.

_Dearest Elaine _

I cannot be the man you want me to be. I am weak. I did not protect you when you needed me to or help you in your darkest hour. The world is better off without me. You and our child, especially, my darling one. I did love you, Elaine, very much. I just wanted you to know.

Kurt

"He also left behind a wife and three children in Stockholm. I did not know about them until the plans were made for his funeral. I left Paris, devastated, and returned into the accepting arms of my father and Capellen. Six months later, Roland was born. I rarely left Capellan after that, and within the last year, I have not left these lands at all. I go into a panic if I even approach the gates. You see, Erik, fear has made this beautiful place my prison."

She had no idea what his reaction would be after her catharsis. She looked at her hands, wet with tears. She suddenly felt terrible about burdening him with her troubles. She could not look him in the eye. She leaned forward to get up.

_Maybe this was a bad idea after all. I just want to run away and hide now._

Elaine felt a soft touch on her arm, then his hand wrapped around it, holding her arm gently. She looked up at Erik's face and looked into the most understanding, most caring eyes she had seen in years. His expression was solemn, his eyes soft. Her fear melted away.

"I am so sorry, Elaine." He said slowly, emphasizing each word. She wrapped her arms around herself and started to sob. She turned towards him and continued to cry as she leaned her head on his chest and wrapped up into a ball against him. The tears were tears of release. He understood.

He wrapped his good arm around her shoulder and held her tightly as she cried against his chest. With each tremulous breath, he felt her pain. It was difficult for him, he wanted to cry with her as her tears fell on his shirt. He held the rage that was boiling within him in check, just so she would not sense it. His heart was in his throat, and his mind went somewhere darker.

_I see we both have our demons, Elaine. If I can find them, I will see to it that yours regret that they were ever born. _


	19. Chapter 19

Chap 19

The comfort they found in each other's presence was mutual. It was as if revealing her dark secret to him had medicated Elaine like a drug. Erik closed his eyes and felt Elaine relax in his arms, long after the crying had ceased. She was so close; his heart pounded within his chest. Her breathing became regular and her body melted onto his. Erik had abolished the brutal thoughts from his head and basked in the warmth of Elaine's sleeping form against his chest, ultimately drifting off to sleep himself for a few moments. He was awoken by a cramp in his leg. He moved his leg to a less painful position and looked down at Elaine, curled up comfortably against him. He ran his hand gently over her hair and pulled it back behind her ear so he could see her face. Her expression was relaxed now, serene. He warmed the exposed fingertips of his splinted hand by touching her arm gently.

One of her small hands lay against his chest, her fingertips caressing him gently with each breath he took. He was still disturbed about what she had told him. He wanted to comfort her wronged, wounded soul, make it all disappear, but that was not possible.

_It is difficult to keep such horrifying things inside you, Elaine. They devour you like a cancer until nothing is left. How someone could hurt such a lovely creature infuriates me. How could those four devils have tortured her, and then persecuted her about it? Those are the actions of decrepit souls, their actions were criminal. Those men deserve to be punished._

He was a little disgusted by his internal response; to torture, probably kill her assailants. The thoughts of anger and violence had come out several times before, from a buried place deep in his psyche. What troubled him was that they would pop into his consciousness as if second nature. He felt ashamed to be around her with those thoughts in his mind.

"Elaine, Elaine…" he said, gently stirring her, feeling that she would more comfortable in her warm bed. They had both been through a hard night apart and a difficult morning together. Her sleepy eyes fluttered open, and she stretched and looked at him with a little surprise then embarrassment when she realized whom it was she was using as a pillow.

"Erik, I am sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Was I hurting you?" She touched his chest and placed her hand gently on his thigh.

"I doubt you could ever hurt me, Elaine," he said, smiling as he tried to ignore the sensations her soft hand was sending up his thigh.

_You have no idea what your touch does to me, do you Elaine?_

"You are still tired; you should return to your bed, where you will be more comfortable." She nodded, stood up and helped him up.

"Maybe you are right. I already feel much better, but few more winks will certainly help." She had a small, apologetic smile on her face. "I am sorry for unloading my burden on you Erik."

"Don't be silly," he cut in. She put a finger on his lips.

"Shhh. No, really. I know you do not need to be bothered by my troubles right now. You have your own. I just want to thank you for being here for me." She leaned forward and gave him a little peck on the cheek, then turned to go back to bed.

He smiled at the sweetness of her kiss, gentle like the touch of a flower petal. As he saw her lying down, he reached up to touch where she had kissed and his heart jumped a little inside. She had kissed the scarred side of his face as if it did not matter at all.

Elaine fell asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. Erik walked out of the room after looking at her sleeping form for a minute, shutting the door gently. He did not notice Angelique looking at him from behind her slightly opened door.

He walked to the stairs and was nearly knocked over by Nate, who had been on a mission to extract Erik from his room. Nate looked at the closed doors of Angelique and Elaine's rooms.

"I wonder if I should wake them up for breakfast." he thought aloud.

"You better had let them rest, they were up quite late," said Erik, not wanting Elaine to be disturbed. He also did not want to have to deal with Angelique again anytime soon.

Nate helped Erik climb down the stairs, a skill Erik was getting adept at.

Breakfast in the manor house was a communal affair. Everyone convened in the huge, bright kitchen rather than the stuffy formal dining room. The massive wooden table was spread with hot food and baked goods, and all the maids, servants, field workers and cooks came together to share in the feast, drink the strong, sweet beverages and plan work for the day. In the place of respect, at the head of the table sat Dr. Dyson, in suspenders and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. His grandson, Roland was at his side. His pleasant face was laughing and talking with each person in turn, as he had already finished his meal. The place was noisy and alive, filled with a sense of camaraderie. They were talking in their native language, Luxembourgish.

The few people that noticed Erik enter behind Nate gave him quiet nods or a pleasant greeting that was probably "Good morning." He nodded back with a smile and bowed his head, feeling a little self conscious around so many people. Roland smiled widely and waved. Dr Dyson acknowledged Erik with a smile and gave Nate a cross look.

_Doesn't he know that Erik may be uncomfortable in this situation? _

Nat gave Dr. Dyson a puzzled expression. Marjorie, Dr. Dyson's nurse, noting the silent exchange between the two men, got up from the table and brought Erik in toward the table quietly. She was pleasantly surprised at how well the man looked that they had struggled to keep alive that night not so long ago. She sat him down on the far corner of the table; a good vantage point. Erik listened intently to the language, obviously related to German, and tried to decipher it. A small plate with butter and a cup steaming with a savory hot beverage appeared like magic in front of him.

"Please, tell me what you would like, Monsieur," said Marjorie, standing to his left, in a low voice. She spoke in perfect French, her accent revealing France as her place of birth. Marjorie placed a savory pastry on his plate. After several more minutes, there seemed to be an air of expectation around the table. The discourse at the table took on a more businesslike atmosphere, Nate at the helm. Marjorie sat next to Erik and explained what was happening in a low voice. It was a kind of morning report.

"Nathaniel is relaying important information to the workers of the manor, and schedules for the harvest. Now he is assigning the duties of the manor out to the men and women: tending to the livestock, working the fields, in the dairy barn and the winery, and so on." Without much discussion, small groups of people filed out of the door, off to their assignments.

Marjorie then did a similar thing to a group of maids and cooks that had gathered in the kitchen. They scurried off after some gentle instruction. She turned to Erik.

"It has been a pleasure to see you again, Monsieur Erik. Dr. Dyson, I go to the office to prepare now. Your first patient should be here in about 15 minutes." The good doctor smiled and nodded at Marjorie as he got up from his position to sit next to Erik.

"I am afraid I must go to as well. I will see you later, Erik. Dr. Dyson. " Nate said as he excused himself, throwing on a jacket and leaving via the kitchen door.

"Without those two, the whole place would go to hell, I think." Dr. Dyson said, laughing and sipping his drink. He folded his arms and looked at Erik.

"It seems they have everything well under control," smiled Erik, biting down on a delicate pastry. It melted in his mouth, tasting of butter with almonds and honey. "I hope you do not mind that I have borrowed your clothes, Dr. Dyson."

"Not at all, my boy. You look better today, worlds better." Dr. Dyson's face became more serious. "Now, about your memories; what was it, exactly that you remembered last night…"

Angelique nursed a heavy head and nausea as she dressed in her room. Tired and hung over, she was hoping that she would be able to convey the message she had brought to Dr. Dyson. She folded up a letter and put it in a safe place: her bodice. Last night, there did not seem to be an opportunity for her talk alone at length with Dr. Dyson. Elaine had questioned her incessantly about what she wanted to discuss with her father. Angelique was able to curtail her curiosity with a few shots of scotch.

_I really need something warm to drink and some bread to settle my stomach. _Angelique thought. Just the idea of another shot of liquor turned her stomach.

Heading down the hall, she heard the familiar voice of Dr. Dyson talking with someone else in the foyer. She inched up to the balcony and saw him with the man with crutches.

_Erik? He looks so different than when I saw him early this morning. I wonder what he was doing in Elaine's room? _

She had heard Elaine cry earlier, knowing the sound well. She was about to go to her side, except that she heard a man's voice coming from the room soon after. She had checked on Elaine after Erik had left, only to find her fast asleep. It was all very mysterious to Angelique.

Dr. Dyson headed back towards the kitchen as Erik headed towards the parlor. As Erik turned around to shut the doors, he looked up the stairs and saw Angelique, who was at the top of the stairs. It was an awkward moment. His eyes burned with anger. Angelique just lowered her eyes as she walked down the stairs. She heard the French doors of the parlor shut, a little loudly.

_I will have to deal with this man sometime soon; I promised Elaine I would smooth things out. I think I will need all my powers of diplomacy to build a bridge over that river. But for right now, I just need to catch Dr. Dyson._

She hurried down the remaining stairs and sprinted to the kitchen.

"Dr. Dyson?" She gasped as she entered the kitchen, seeing him about to leave. He turned around, coat on, stethoscope in hand. He had a fatherly look of disapproval on his face. "Could I please have a word with you before you go?" She queried as she approached him.

"And good morning to you too, my dear. Had a little fun last night, I heard," he said, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. He loved her like a daughter but definitely did not approve of the fact that she had decided to drink so heavily with Elaine under his roof. Angelique hung her head.

"I am so sorry, Dr. Dyson. In the future I promise not to mistake your upstairs sitting room for a pub. It was disrespectful." She looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes, apologetic.

He shook his head. It was always too hard to remain angry with Angelique. He motioned her down the hall to his office. Once there, he closed the door, took off his coat and sat behind the desk. She sat in front of the desk in one of the armchairs. This part of her visit was business.

"What is it that you need to discuss with me so early this morning?" He asked, his hands clasped loosely. He believed she brought a message from her father, the King.

"Over the last few years, Elaine and I have corresponded via letters and in person. She told me about your tutoring her in medicine; my understanding was that you were continuing to direct her studies as if she were continuing her education at the Clinic. Is that correct?" Elaine stated with an eloquence that was surprising, in light of her post-inebriated state.

"Yes, that is true. Over the past few years, I have given her assignments in texts and journals to mimic the didactics she would have received in the first couple of years of training. We have since started trying to reproduce the practical clinical teachings. She has been doing quite well. But why do you ask?" He said, now sitting back in his chair, intrigued by the line of questioning.

"And why did you do this? To what end?" She asked, in a rhetorical fashion.

"Elaine continues to be greatly interested in becoming a physician, even after leaving Paris."

"You mean after being forced out of Paris by men who deserve to be in jail, Dr. Dyson. Let us speak plainly," said Angelique, her pretty face quite stern.

"We both know the details, Angelique. What is your point?" He said, uncomfortable with discussing his daughter's situation.

"I have been in contact with Doctor, or rather Dean Melan, who is now the head of the Clinic. We have discussed the plight of your daughter at length. And I believe we have come up with a suitable resolution to her problem." She paused.

"Horace Melan. He was a good friend of mine. I knew he was interested in becoming an administrator at the Clinic, but I did not know that he became dean. Go on." He was curious to find out where this would lead.

"Yes, he remembers you. As you are well aware, your name is greatly respected in the medical community in both Luxembourg and France, especially on your work to abolish the Leper Colonies. In any case, I have told him about Elaine continuing her education privately under your direction." She removed the envelope from her bodice and placed it on his desk, then continued.

"We came up with a plan. If Elaine agrees to sit for the final examinations of the didactic coursework and passes them, then she will only need to finish the clinical portion of her training in order to receive her degree in medicine. The particulars are in the letter. That would cut the remaining time for training to about a year or two maximum, rather than making her go through the whole thing."

"Really?" Dr. Dyson said, incredulous as he opened the letter. "He would do that for her? Angelique, how did you get him to agree to this?"

"I can be very persuasive, Dr. Dyson." She said, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "Very persuasive."

"Spare me the details." He said. Another disapproving look flashed from his eyes.

"I will have you know that…most... of our discussions were outside the bedchambers. Horace, I mean, Dr. Melan did admit that her situation is unique. He and some of the other professors were deeply disturbed by what had happened to her and believed that an exception should be granted." She paused, looking at him questioningly as he got up. He read the letter and moved to the window. He looked out sadly at Roland, who was running around outside. The child had no idea what his mother had been through. Angelique stood up and approached him slowly.

"Roland will be going to boarding school soon. He could go to one in or near Paris, where she could see him as often as possible." she said, trying to improve Dr. Dyson's expression. She stood by Dr. Dyson's side.

"I don't know if she would even consider going back there." He whispered.

Dr. Dyson remembered how his daughter was when she had returned from Paris years before. She was scared, depressed, and afraid of her shadow. He endured a whole month of his daughter walking around dazed and silent during the day. Each night, Elaine would wake up screaming, barely consolable. He had thought her disturbed by the death of the child's father, Kurt. Dr. Dyson had grown sick with worry, and finally confronted her. Nothing could have prepared him; he was devastated when she told him the awful truth about the rape. He rubbed at his wrinkled forehead and closed his eyes, trying to rub away his thoughts.

Angelique placed her hand on his back.

"I can't help feeling that I should have protected her, Angelique. How could I have let that happen to her?" He said, a hurt, guilty expression on his face. Angelique hugged him as a daughter would, rubbing his back.

"You had no idea something like that would happen, Dr. Dyson. How could you have known?" They stood there for a few moments in silence. He eventually nodded and backed away from the window and Angelique.

"I thank you for being there for her. You were always a great friend."

"Elaine is like a sister to me. I would do anything for her. I think this particular bit of information should come from you, however. Feel free to leave my name out of it," she said.

"I will discuss it with her, at the appropriate time. She has developed certain phobias, such as being afraid to be outside of Capellen that we have to contend with. I will let you know what she says." He sat heavily in his desk chair, looking like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I will need to get home later today. As you know, my brother has left me with no mode of transportation. I have an engagement in Germany I must prepare for over the next day or two," she said, stopping on her path towards the door.

"I will have Nate or Bruno take you home. Thank you again, Angelique." He looked up at her and smiled.

"Thank you for everything, Dr. Dyson. It has been a pleasure as always." She left the office and breathed a sigh of relief. As she crossed the foyer, she heard music coming from the parlor. It would play for about ten to fifteen seconds, and then it would stop. Then it would start again. The fragmented chords were complex, the melody brisk. She heard Erik humming along with the music and in between. She walked up to listen, putting her ear closer to the door. She lost her balance and banged into the door.

"Hello? Who is it?" said Erik, from within.

Angelique cursed at herself for being so clumsy. The pain in her head boomed. She pursed her lips and placed her hand on the handle to open the door. Her confrontation with Erik would happen sooner than she wanted it to. She had to ignore her good sense to run away, forcing herself to stay and face the music, so to speak.

_Now is as good a time as any. _

After taking a deep breath, she opened the door.


	20. Chapter 20

Chap 20

Erik sat on the bench in the parlor, eyes closed. With his fingertips he stroked the smooth wood on the lid of the piano, sliding them gently over the varnished, polished surface. Slowly he opened the lid of the piano and with open eyes he silently stroked the ebony and ivory keys with feathery touches, from the angelic highs to the lows that reverberated, teetering on the edge of perception. He did not need to make the hammers touch the strings; the sounds each key would make rang within his mind, his fingers gently moving as they played a silent, ethereal air.

Erik needed to find calm. He felt an urge to run away and hide like a child who had been exposed to too much too fast. He yearned for tranquility, salvation from the storm of human drama into which he had been flung over the last day. The strain of socializing with others seemed so foreign and difficult to him. He never knew what to say or do, and struggled to find words, even though his brilliant mind did it so rapidly, the persons around him were unaware of the turmoil within him. He felt a longing for solitude. That thought brought him comfort. He needed to be alone with his thoughts and with his music, if only for a short while, just enough time to dispel the tension growing within him.

Music, the muse of his life. The connection he felt with music was so deep, so unnatural, it was consuming. It was as if music had filled all the roles in his life until there was very little left outside of it. The memories of music came relatively easily, sometimes alone, but usually linked to deep emotion. If he concentrated, he could remember music without the pain. He placed both hands on the top of the piano and rested his face against the cold, hard, smooth wood. He started to play with his uninjured hand, touching only single notes at a time. He felt the music vibrate through the strings, the wood, then to his skull, reaching his ears.

_Yes, here you are. Music, sweet music. You are the cloth to catch my tears, the whipping post for my terrible anger, that which I play with unbridled passion and incredible lust. You, my blind, insensate, friend; you, my fickle lover. I betray you now. No longer are you sufficient comfort for my soul. You never were, really, were you? I remember loneliness under your care, sadness in your invisible arms, despair so deep it hurt physically. How did I expect to find comfort in a thing without warm blood, without soft flesh to melt into, without a caring touch to soothe me, a sweet mouth to utter a loving word ? I am yearning for that touch. I will never be gifted with that joy. That I know. _

He felt on the precipice of a dangerous perch, with the sense that the fall would shatter him. He distracted the negative thoughts by thinking about the conversation he had earlier with Dr. Dyson. His hand wondering over the keys began playing a disturbing melody.

They were alone in the big, bright kitchen when Dr. Dyson changed his line of questioning from lighthearted banter to business.

"Do you remember where you were going that night?" asked Dr. Dyson, the clasped hands and raised brow revealing to Erik that he was in the presence of the physician.

"No." Said Erik, putting down his food. The question disturbed him, but why?

"Do you know where you had traveled from?"

"No." Erik kept his answers terse.

"Do you remember a friend, or loved one that we should contact?"

"No one cared for me, I feel it." Dr. Dyson's eyes flashed sadness when Erik spoke those words. Erik clasped his hand around the bench where he sat. The questions, though necessary and innocent were angering him.

"Do you remember where your home is?" Dr. Dyson leaned back and let Erik think. After a few moments with Erik staring downward, he responded.

"No."

_This will be my last question, he already looks quite disturbed._ _Why is he becoming so agitated? I wonder what he is trying to hide. Is he lying? Are the answers that are hidden from him as well causing him discomfort? One thing is true; this line of questioning must be abandoned for now. _

"I am sorry my questions are bothering you, Erik, but I felt the need to elicit some information before I tell you this," said Dr. Dyson as he got up.

"Yes?" Said Erik, who had nearly burned a hole in the table with his stare, turned his questioning eye to the good doctor.

"I think, given your post-traumatic state that you should not actively TRY to remember."

"Why?" Said Erik.

"From what I have been reading, it appears that to do so would only distress you more. Your brain, your mind needs time to heal, just like your body does. Trying to force memories from an injured brain, the experts say, may just be worse than letting them come together when they will."

"Then I should resign myself to forgetting it all? Everything in my past? I do not follow."

"No, what I mean is don't try to wrack your brain to dig up specific memories. As the parts of your brain heal, they should work fine, including, eventually, the areas that hold and process your memories. Don't torture yourself, Erik," Dr. Dyson said, taking a seat next to Erik again. "Just do that which makes you feel content and comfortable. Think upon the things that come with ease. Oh, and, most importantly, make sure you sleep well. That is the most important part of recovery for a healing brain, according to the recommendations set forth in the literature." Erik grunted his understanding, ruminating over sips of tea upon the on the doctor's recommendations.

"One problem: My sleep is well, quite disturbed at present."

_By men with masks, and wandering, molesting, drunken women, _He thought darkly.

"I can cure that problem with some elixir for sleep."

"What else can I say Dr. Dyson? I will try my best to obey to your instructions for my recovery," Erik said, resuming his breakfast.

_Trying to not remember anything will be difficult indeed. At least I can start concentrating on the here and now, looking forward. Except for one thing. _

"One thing I really would like to continue to remember is my music. It gives me great pleasure."

"If it causes you no mental discomfort, then be my guest." Dr. Dyson smiled. "Besides, I enjoy hearing music in the house, it brings back good memories. My wife, Clemencia used to play…"

They continued the discussion on a lighter note. From the discourse, Erik was able to witness the tenderness in his eyes as Dr. Dyson remembered his wife. With the telling of each vignette, glimpses into the life they shared together, the loving memory revealed how much he missed his darling Clemencia.

_It is wonderful to love and be loved like that_. Erik said, a sadness gripping him.

Bringing his mind back to the present, back in the parlor, Erik glanced at the staff paper he had taken from the drawer in the bench. Notes and markings unexpectedly began to swirl before his eyes. He started to write down the fleeting arrangement furiously, trying to get it all down before it vanished. The music played within him as he thought one instrument's part and played another. He found his voice and he hummed yet another part. The music that came was flooding him, the movements and chords harsh but leading, angst-ridden combinations, devilish and eerie, as if an evil was clawing its way from hell. It was both dissonant and perfect. He scrawled through many sheets of paper feverishly, his hand struggling to keep up with the music raging in his head with such energy, such biting fury.

Then, out of the clamoring din, a clear, high pitched, moving solo emerged, beautiful and pure. He saw her in his mind again, the beautiful, dark haired damsel. It no longer shocked him to imagine her, but her memory did upset him. A rose graced her dark hair, a low cut dress revealed white shoulders, and as she looked around, a sultry expression found his eyes, seducing him. Or was she taunting him?

_Christine. Who is this woman who fills my thoughts, parading through my head like she lives there? A figment? No, she is real. I can sense it, and from the look on her face, there was something between us, but what? Oh, god. It is her voice in the solo. So, she is a singer, and I, a composer. The partnership seems to be a natural match. But she is so beautiful. I can feel something for her, but it is cloaked in anger, sadness, pain…Could she have possibly been with me? I think not. You are a fool, Erik. _

_What of this man on the gate in the cave? She ran to him, she embraced him. This is all very confusing. There are too many questions left unanswered._

He pushed the girl's beautiful face from his mind and again found solace in continuing to write his music. Discordant, the music was mentally stimulating, yet immensely calming as it flowed onto the paper and the keys. This was his communion, he felt more whole doing this than anything else he had experienced thus far in Capellen.

(BANG!)

Something had fallen heavily against the door.

_Why can't I have more than a few moments of quiet in this place? Damn it! _

"Hello? Who is it?" he said, trying to not sound irritated, waiting for the response.

The door handle turned slowly and opened. A pale looking Angelique looked at him with intense eyes. Erik looked at her cynically. She walked into the room, avoiding his glare. After she shut the door, she spoke.

"Hello Erik," she said softly as her eyes rose again to see him.

_Ok, Angelique how are you going to do this again? The formal way does not seem appropriate. Begging for forgiveness will not seem believable. Good lord, his eyes could kill… _She searched his expression for some clues as to what he was thinking.

"Hello Angelique." He said, crossing his arms, letting his displeasure in her intrusion show.

Angelique was very adept at the art of 'reading' people's minds, which was, in actuality, just finely honed perception. She had learned to notice the slightest changes in breathing, movement around the eyes, minute changes of the expression on the face. That, blended with the whole host of messages given off by the body, gives the 'mind reader' a good idea of the person's state of mind. Combine that with the correct statements to provoke the subconscious physical and emotional responses and Angelique usually had the answers to her questions, most of the time. Her gift was very useful in her career as an envoy.

_He is breathing a little quicker than normal, his jaw is clenched, but his eyes are pensive and intense. I see; he is still quite angry but open to communicate. Good. I cannot really interpret his facial expressions well, his deformity is distracting me. God, do I feel ill. _

The envoy decided to keep everything as simple and truthful as possible. No doubt, if this man was as intelligent as Elaine had said he was, he would not appreciate anything other than that.

"Is there any way we can just start over somehow, Monsieur Erik, on the right foot this time?" Angelique said, after a pregnant pause.

"What? And forget our morning together?" Erik was not willing to just let the fiasco of the morning just be pushed aside. Any of it. His instant, biting sarcasm surprised and pleased her.

_I see; an opponent, how intriguing. You will not win a war of words against me, sir. But this is not about an exercise in legerdemain. I am actually too hung over. This is about apology. Groveling it is._

"Your room is the suite I usually stay in when I come to see the Dyson's. I thought it strange that I was not taken there yesterday when I arrived. I guess that I lost my way in the halls last night after a few drinks, and ended up in your room as a matter of habit."

"I would have expected a little more tact from a woman with your graces." Erik grumbled, the sarcasm thick.

"My initial reaction was a product of the situation. I was more shocked that a strange man was in what I thought was my room this morning..." She explained.

"You mean a strange monster." He said, glaring at her, not wanting to hide his irritation. She had ruined his fragile sense of normalcy. The room fell silent as Angelique's eyes closed.

"I am so sorry for everything, Erik. Words cannot describe how awful I feel about this morning. I had no right pushing you out of your bed, throwing things at you, and insulting you. Especially that. Please accept my apology." Her sincere plea had reached him, that she could see, but she also noticed a pained, bitter expression return to his face. This was not settled.

He started to play a slow, sad melody on the piano.

"What has Elaine told you about my situation?" He said, his eyes on the keyboard. He left the question open on purpose, just to see where she would go with it. Angelique knitted her brows.

"I know you were attacked, beaten nearly to death. Dr. Dyson found you and brought you here to get better. I know that, as a result of your injuries, you have very little recollection of your past. Why do you want to know?" Angelique left out the details of her discussion with Elaine that morning.

"These sweet people here have treated me with such kindness that I had also largely forgotten the abuse, the insults, the hatred aimed towards me, the ill treatment that had no doubt permeated my life. Until you reminded me how I appear to the rest of the world. A monster." As Erik said those words he glared at Angelique. His words hung heavily in the silence of the room. Angelique lowered her eyes. Erik noticed her getting paler and a little unsteady. She was shaking, just a little.

As the silence continued, Angelique began to get a little impatient, mainly because her head was pounding.

"Erik, I can't take back what I said. Or what I did. But I will be honest with you. Your deformity, and the way you looked did cause me quite the fright this morning. And the fact that you don't look like a raving maniac anymore helps. But now I am familiar with how you look and such vile words will not be uttered by me again," she said, noting his rather neat appearance. Had she seen him like this, her reaction would not have been as severe. She was beginning to feel a little nauseated and was hoping it did not show.

"I repulsed you. When even the mere suggestion was made that we…you were disgusted," he charged, wanting everything aired out.

"You are not repulsive. Trust me, I have seen worse. I was simply shocked and responded unkindly. Look, Erik; I know how much Elaine cares about you. I really hope you can accept my apology and we can move beyond this. I expect to be seeing you often in the future and I don't want animosity to remain between us. It would make Elaine feel badly," she said.

He stopped playing, feeling his face get a little flushed at the mention of Elaine. Then he realized that Angelique was swaying a little.

"Angelique, maybe you should sit down." Angelique looked back at Erik. Now his expression was one of concern with only a touch of anger.

"No, I'm alright." She said, holding on to the piano for support.

"Angelique, please. If you fall, I will be unable to help you get up. Please, sit." Angelique nodded and plopped down on the nearest chair, still in full view of Erik.

"I am afraid I have not yet recovered from my overindulgence with the whiskey last night." She breathed a few times deeply and felt much better.

Erik continued to play the beautiful sad, melody. Angelique crinkled her pretty nose. She had yet to obtain an acceptance of her apology. On a hunch, Angelique he decided to try something different. She had only one Ace…

"Monsieur Erik. To answer to your question upstairs, the one you asked me this morning. I have remembered… being with you was not bad at all. I remember rather enjoying your company between the sheets. Did you enjoy mine?" The effect of her words was exactly what she needed to gather her information.

His head whipped around quickly to stare at her as his fingers froze on the keys. He had the surprised expression that screamed '_So you do remember_!' Angelique had a curious smirk on her face.

Erik realized quickly what had transpired. Angelique had been lying about remembering anything. His expression had revealed everything to her. He cursed himself for being so transparent.

_Now we are seeing the ambassador at work. Very clever, Angelique. _

"Hmm. I see, " Angelique said, relishing her new position. She wondered exactly what had occurred between them during the night. Obviously, from his expression, something had. She leaned forward and whispered to the shocked man on the piano bench.

"I have a proposition for you. I will promise never to talk about that subject ever again if you promise to forgive me my rudeness. What is a little blackmail between friends?" The look in her eye was serious.

"You are quite adept in making these contracts, I see. Agreed, Angelique." He looked away from her with waning annoyance. He begrudgingly admired her ability to control the situation. Angelique was a very dangerous woman, indeed.

"Do you mind if I stay a while and hear you play? It sounded interesting from outside…"

"Well, actually I am just trying to put it together now, it is quite unfinished." He really did not want her to stay, but it may just be easier to allow it. Angelique got up and started to look through the pages strewn on the top of the piano. With the pen sitting nearby, she assumed he had written it. She looked at the music with knowing eyes. She hummed a few notes, sight reading quite well. Erik was impressed.

"You use the shorthand of a composer." She said, looking at the rapidly written notes and the scrawled comments. The music was complex and dark, discordant. She recognized it but did not know where she had heard it before.

"Yes, I believe that is what I am. So Angelique, you read music?" he asked.

"Yes, I was at the conservatory in Denmark. Could you play this part? I just can't seem to follow it." She handed him the sheet with the solo.

"What instrument?" he said, starting to play.

"Not instrument, voice. I am a mezzo-soprano in range." He stopped playing abruptly. She smiled and curtsied. "Maestro."

"Now that is interesting. I may actually have to change my opinion of you, Angelique." Erik said, resuming his playing.

"I hope you do." She said, smiling.


	21. Chapter 21

Chap 21

Elaine woke up slowly to the sounds of faint music. In her half-dream state, she lay in the bed listening; she knew the only one who would send the ethereal notes throughout the house would be Erik.

_It felt so good to be close to this strange, complicated man. I wonder..._

She smiled, thankful that she insisted to one of the servants yesterday that the piano be tuned as soon as possible. The piano tuner came that day, being indebted to Dr. Dyson for taking care of a sick family member, performing the task free of charge. It was a little present for Erik. Secretly, she hoped that he would play for many more hours in the parlor in the days and weeks to come.

As the gentle tones of music changed and ebbed she felt a warm connection with the man who had just held her in his arms, letting her cry, helping her purge her soul. The bad memories would come again, that she knew, but for now, she was safe. As she had cried against his chest, she had felt the turmoil within him; he was trying hard to hide it from her. She hoped that one day she would be able to help him in much the same way.

She sat up with a start. She suddenly remembered she had to be with her father today in the office, as part of a clinical assignment she had. She hurriedly changed and freshened up. Her father would probably understand, but she took her work seriously and did not like to seem as if she was ignoring her duties.

_Angelique my dear, you are often the source of my distractions. I wonder how you are faring. You definitely had more to drink than I._

She made her way down the stairs quickly, intending to swing by the parlor to greet Erik but then stood motionless in the foyer , hearing two voices coming from the parlor; Erik's and Angelique's. A fleeting sensation of jealousy floated through her chest, much to her surprise.

_That is completely unfounded, Elaine. Isn't it? _

She walked up to the closed parlor door, listening with curiosity to the conversation within.

"But Erik, I really don't understand that particular phrase, it does not make sense to me. It is actually a little to harsh, don't you think?" said Angelique. She was not as adept in reading music as he; she read it line for line, and was not able to hear all the parts play together in her head as Erik did.

"You are just not hearing the progression of the chords, I think. I cannot play all the notes." said Erik, as he lifted his splinted hand up. She nodded with understanding.

"Very well." she said, "I will play one part." She roughly sat down next to him. He slid over on the bench, a little taken aback by how close she had become. Her close proximity felt uncomfortable to him now, but he proceeded.

"Here then, play this line" he pointed to the violin's part. She nodded.

The music continued, her piano playing lacking the fluidity of Erik's hand on the piano keys, but the point was made.

"Oh, I see. It changes from minor to major right after the vocals. Good lord, what a high pitch." She said, looking around for the next page.

_This composition is genius! So dark and aggressive. I have definitely heard this kind of music before, but where?_

"The violin plays a bridge that leads into the final note. Do you see now?"

"Yes, yes. Where is the next part?"

"That is all I have remembered thus far."

"Remembered? I thought you said you were writing this now." she questioned. To Erik's relief, she stood up, stepped away from him and started to gather the papers on the piano. She noticed his shoulders relaxing as she moved away.

"No, I am not composing this now; the music came too quickly, too completely for that. It is already written somewhere else. I was simply remembering. To be honest, I am not even absolutely sure this is my work." His brows knitted as he looked at the current sheet of music.

"Oh yes, the amnesia. Well I thank you for sharing it with me, as unfinished as it is. So Maestro, do we have a truce?" She said, maintaining her distance. She did not want to make him feel uncomfortable again.

"Truce, Diva," he said, with a smirk.

Out in the foyer, Elaine felt this would be the appropriate time to make her presence known. She opened the parlor door slowly.

They were both a little surprised to see her, but pleased. With Erik distracted, Angelique slipped a page of music off the piano and folded it up discretely, slipping it into a fold in her dress.

"Elaine! I hope my playing did not wake you up." he said, a small smile escaping his lips.

_I wish I could stop myself from grinning every time I see her. How foolish I must seem. Again she finds me alone in a room with Angelique. Great, just great._

"I did hear it, but your music could never disturb me, Erik. It was a pleasant way to be eased from slumber. I had to get up anyway. Good afternoon, Angelique." She smiled, looking at her friend with the slightest question in her eye. Angelique turned around to look at the clock in the room.

"Oh my, is that the time! No wonder I nearly fainted, I really need to eat something and get ready to go back home." She walked to the door. Pausing for a second, she turned and curtsied to Erik. "Thank you again, for letting me listen to your music. Goodbye Maestro." Erik nodded. Angelique winked at Elaine as she walked out.

"I'll join you in a minute." Elaine said, the thought of food making her stomach growl. She walked over to the bench and sat next to Erik, facing away from the piano. She felt his pale green eyes on her, following her every move. His presence was so calming yet exciting. She wanted to be close against him again. But that moment had passed, and the rules of appropriate behavior applied once more.

"So, Erik, is everything alright now, between you and her?" She said gently.

"Yes, for now. And the same for you? Uh, I mean, you are well rested, right?" He said, looking down at his hands, awkwardness permeating his actions.

_Why do I turn into a blubbering idiot around her?_

"Yes, Erik. I know what you meant. Thanks again, for your ear." She gave him a small, shy smile. "I have to go now, but I will see you later, for dinner." She got up to leave, placing her hand gently on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

Her touch felt as if she had reached in and stroked his heart. He reached up to hold her hand a second too late, on purpose. His intense gaze followed her graceful exit from the parlor.

After she left, Erik closed the lid on the piano keyboard and rested his elbow on the lid. He rubbed his forehead which was now tense. He stared at his unsightly reflection in a mirror on the wall.

"There are so many damn mirrors in this place. Erik, what the hell are you doing?" he whispered to himself.

_Falling, and falling hard, _was the honest answer.

Angelique and Elaine initially sat wordlessly in the kitchen as they devoured some food. They were eying each other with caution. Angelique decided to talk first.

"I think we can consider the matter between Erik and I officially resolved. I apologized shamelessly, like never before to any man. It was downright embarrassing." Angelique said, rolling her eyes in feigned exasperation.

"Resolved from his perspective as well, I found out. You, groveling? That I would have loved to have seen." Giggled Elaine, that picture of Angelique seeming so foreign.

_Trust me Elaine. You would not have wanted to be present for that particular exchange._

"It was all for you my dearest friend. Oh the things I do!" Angelique managed to extract a big smile from Elaine. They both laughed. Angelique sipped her tea with a crinkle on her forehead. "Quite an unsightly scar he has on his face, though, Elaine. A pity, the rest of him appears to be quite appealing."

"Angelique!" She said with a warning look.

"You know you needn't worry about me, my dear. I am just perusing the merchandise. No man flesh escapes my eyes. To be honest, his face would be enough to turn me away unless duty demanded it. As you well know, for that I have laid with the devil himself." She laughed smugly. Seduction was one of her most effective tools.

Elaine looked sadly at her friend. She would actually feel sorry for her, if she didn't know how much Angelique enjoyed her rather scandalous position in her father's politics and the matters of state. All positions.

"Actually I don't think it is a scar at all. Father says it is a birthmark of some sort. Funny enough, I hardly notice it anymore." Angelique laughed again. Elaine knitted her brows.

"I am not in the least bit surprised at that. You have always had a unique view on things, my dear friend."

"I'm not sure I follow you," said Elaine, becoming a little defensive. She did not know whether she was being praised or insulted. Angelique continued after she noticed Elaine stiffen.

"Elaine, you grew up seeing so many things. While other kids were home, safe in their neighborhoods playing with all the other pretty kids, you were in the leper colonies while your father was doing his research. All the deformities and contorted faces others would have considered disgusting you learned to see as shades of normal. Your playmates had no ears, missing fingers, and collapsed noses; faces that would frighten a normal child." Angelique put her hand on her friend's hand.

"I think because of that, you look past the outside appearance of people right into their soul, from the first moment you meet them. I admire that in you. It takes people years sometimes to get to that point with just a single person. You can and do appreciate physical beauty in another person, but that is secondary to you." Angelique moved her hand back and cast her eyes down. "I do not have that kind of inner strength or compassion in my heart. I am shallow in most respects, I admit it. It is a wonder you can even consider me a friend." Elaine was deeply touched by Angelique's words. Elaine moved over to her and placed an arm around her.

"Angelique, you are my closest friend. You are beautiful inside as well. But I have seen you change over the years. You have hardened yourself, and become so remote, emotionally."

"Necessity, my dear, shear necessity. I can never hide my true self from you, though Elaine. Speaking of necessity, duty calls. I have to find my way to Germany to meet Count Adolph Wilhelm-Karl. I hear he is quite handsome. What a treat for me! My father has chosen him to be the next Duke of Luxembourg, contingent on my assessment of course. He is a cousin of the current Duke. Frankly, your father was the first person that was considered, but we both know he would not have accepted the post."

"Oh dear, Montague is going to be furious about that. Does he know?" Elaine shuddered at the mere thought of the man.

"No, not yet. I do not look forward to that display. I will be long gone by the time he receives that note."

Nate appeared at the kitchen entrance, surprised at seeing the two ladies.

"Well, my dearest ladies, good morning. Or might I say good afternoon?" He had a charming smirk on his face. "Might I offer you a drink or two?"

That comment provoked squeals and a rain of napkins and half eaten pastries thrown his way. After they all settled down from the fits of laughter, Nate remembered what he had come in for, but Angelique spoke first.

"Nate, could you or one of your darling men give me a ride back to my place, it seems that my escort left in a huff yesterday. How about that cute little Jacques fellow?" She smiled, mischief in her eyes..

"You will never change, will you? But of course, someone will see you safely home, my dear. Please Angelique, I want my man back intact and in short order if you understand my meaning. I have a few things to do today. Do you know where Erik is?" he directed the question at Elaine, but both women answered.

"In the parlor." They said, in concert.

Nate walked over to the parlor, finding the door open, Erik fumbling through some sheets of staff paper, looking frustrated. He was startled at his arrival, but then noted Nate with relief.

"Good day, Erik. Would you like to go for that ride that I promised you?"

"What? Sure, that sounds fine, Nate. I just misplaced something. I don't know where it could have gone." Erik looked around in vain for the missing page of the manuscript

"Is there something bothering you, Erik?" Nate asked, feeling that Erik looked a bit frazzled. Erik then passed his hand up to his neck. He sighed heavily as he rubbed his head.

"Nate, actually, I am not in the mood for a ride. Please, I just need a quiet place. I need to be by myself for a while. All this is just so…do you understand?" Erik's head was spinning. Nate nodded, looking at the man.

"A bit overwhelmed, are we? Don't worry, Erik, I know a place." Nate knew the feeling well. Despite his jovial demeanor, Nate had his own issues, and needed time alone to deal with them on occasion. The manor house was just a little too busy for someone not used to it, much less someone recovering from a concussion.

Nate rode on horseback while Erik sat alone in the small open carriage. They rode up a hill, over to a bluff that looked down on the fields of Capellen. The place was quiet, windswept, and beautiful. Pulling the horse around, he rode up to Erik in the carriage. Erik gave him a nod of thanks.

"You think you can find your way back to the manor house all right?" Nate handed Erik some provisions.

"Yes, I have been keeping track of the path here." Erik took the food and water thankfully.

"I come here from time to time if I need to think. Stay here as long as you like. I have just fed and watered the horse. You will not be disturbed, I will see to that. Oh, and dinner will be around sunset." He tipped his hat and headed down the path, back to the manor house.

Erik reveled in the solitude. He relaxed his body, every muscle, and closed his eyes, listening to the music of the wind in the trees, the birds and the low murmur of the Eisch River in the distance. His mind finally relaxed.

In a small covered coach on the way back to Angelique's flat in Luxembourg City, a sleepy Angelique was looking over the sheet of paper she had absconded from Erik in the parlor. She nodded off to sleep for a minute, and then sat bolt upright gasping for air.

_Oh my God! I have heard that music before! The night of the Paris opera house fire! _


	22. Chapter 22

Chap 22:

The landscape in Luxembourg was like a painting taken from a fairy tale. Ripe with lush forests and picturesque views, it was dotted with hamlets and enough medieval castles to entice the imagination. In this land where magic and mystery remained largely hidden in the pristine fields and dark forests, it seemed fitting to Erik to grace the grand tree standing before him with a name: The Tower. It was a simple name; direct, yet respectful. It was a handsome, contorted old man with many branches that stuck out from the angular trunk like the stairs of a spiral staircase. Being the tallest tree on the windy bluff overlooking the manor fields, he was sure the view from the uppermost branches would be glorious. Erik, his body now fully healed, stood at the base of the tall tree and looked up into the canopy. He had been preparing quite some time for this endeavor.

He stepped to one side and threw up a rope around the first branch that was out of his reach. He looped one end through a metal ring that was attached to a harness strapped on his torso and swiftly tied a knot. He was in awe of the way he wielded a rope; it was as if it was an extension of his own arm. A trick from his still largely hidden past, he had surmised. He pulled himself up with the rope, walking up the trunk with little effort until he straddled the first large branch.

"Only about thirty more of these to go. This will be a good journey," he whispered to himself with a smirk. "You are not one to shy away from something that seems unreachable, are you, Erik?"

He threw the gathered rope with ease up to the next branch out of reach, his balance like that of an acrobat. As he worked his way up the Tower, he breathed deeply with the effort, perspiration eventually bathing his face. He enjoyed the stretching and slight aches his muscles released; the physical exertion made him feel alive again. The aching in his left arm and right leg were greater, but he favored those once damaged bones only a little. He believed that the strenuous movements of this expedition would fortify those limbs to equal the great strength in his other extremities. As he climbed up the tree with stealth reminiscent of a large cat, he reflected on the last two months, his blessed time of recovery at Capellen manor.

It had been a time of relative peace for Erik's injured mind. As Dr. Dyson had suggested, he did not actively try to remember his past. The good doctor had given him a tonic to take at night to make his sleep dreamless, but restful. At times he actually resisted his memories, so that he could concentrate on the present. He felt empowered by the rapid progress of his recovery. Over two months, he had settled down to a routine of trips around the manor, composing at the piano, good meals, and visits with Dr. Dyson, Nate, Roland, and Elaine. He felt very at peace; like a man reborn.

As the weeks flew by, Erik had regained his strength and the ability to move around the manor. He was emphatically urged to make himself feel at home. The more people he encountered, however, he ended up experiencing more of what he had expected. The servants and workers were never intentionally rude, but some gawked at him when they first saw him, and a few seemed to remain downright uncomfortable in his presence. He was painfully aware of the talk of the 'deformed man' that was staying at the manor house. Some of the women, not knowing how to really react, used to usher their children away from him, swatting their bottoms or covering their mouths when the innocent little minds queried about his face. Even in the sweet, accepting world of Capellen, he still experienced the pain of being different to a degree.

Other than that, he was largely accepted by the people who lived on the lands of the manor, thanks to Nate. In the beginning, he followed Nate around, learning his routine at managing the lands. At first, Erik helped Nate with the arduous paperwork of keeping the manor running, eventually taking over that task entirely, much to Nate's relief. He was certain that the rest of the world was not as accepting, and would not be that kind to him. He was also certain, from the memories he had recalled, that he used to exist in a living hell.

Perched precariously near the top of the Tower, Erik climbed up to the highest branch that he believed would hold his weight. He looked down, marveling at the fact that the intimidating height had no effect on him. It was as if he was accustomed to looking down from on high, tucked into unsafe places. He turned his eyes to the view, which was astounding. The wind blew with great force up there, a place where only the birds and the clouds have had the pleasure to see the beauty vistas before. The natural music was louder here. He sat quietly listening, nestled in the pipes if its organ. He held his breath as he noted the multicolored fading hills as far as he could see, the fields of Capellen shining like facets of jeweled green seas.

Erik retrieved his journal from his bag and a canteen with some water. He was hot, dirty and had scrapes all over his exposed skin; his clothing was ruined. The feeling of accomplishment was deeply fulfilling. He flipped through his journal, now overflowing with notes, calculations, sketches, and music. He came upon the first sketch he had drawn of Elaine. His first few days at Capellen seemed like an eternity ago. Even then, he had adored her, but his feelings then were but a fraction of how he felt for her now. Her eyes stared at him from the page. He sighed gently, remembering their interactions with a mild ache in his chest, his finger tracing her face.

Elaine usually met with him in the afternoons for tea or dinner. They discussed all matter of topics as they took rides in the carriage, then walks once he was able. She was intelligent and delightful, both playful and serious. Even though he tried to maintain a careful emotional distance, he and Elaine had grown more fond of each other each week that passed. They lied to each other, commenting on how close they were becoming 'as friends'.

Against his better judgment, Erik could not bear to deny himself the pleasure of the physical contact she so freely bestowed. She was constantly making the excuse to him that she was just affectionate; but even Nate remarked that he did not see her act towards others the way she was around Erik. Nate was far too observant sometimes.

Their closeness posed problems for him. Every touch burned like hot wax, and her presence made his soul ache. Certain ways that she looked at him, and moved around him made his body burn for her until his head spun, and made him believe he could take no more. Through it all, he maintained his composure, returning her affections as far as he could without betraying his inner feelings.

His heart was longing for her, the physical attraction just a byproduct of how deeply in love he was falling. It was painful on many levels, but pain that he bore gladly. He confessed to himself; he was just a lovesick fool who would follow on this woman's heels to the ends of the earth. There were many things stopping him, the greatest being that he desperately wanted to know more about his past before even thinking of becoming involved romantically with Elaine. As the days went by, he was convinced she was an angel and was afraid that one day she would disappear from his view, and go back to her heavenly abode in the white billows of the sky.

He smiled widely to himself as he remembered the occasion she had removed his arm splint for the last time. What a great day that was. Elaine had walked into his room in the manor house with a grin early that morning.

"I came to free you, my dear Erik," she proclaimed with a smile. He looked back at her from the table on which he had his books, sketches and paintings laid out. All other exposed surfaces of furniture in the room were covered in staff paper. He returned a pleased but questioning look.

"Now how do you intend to free someone who is not imprisoned?" He retorted.

She motioned for him to come to sit next to her, which he did, moving over to the bed with the assistance of a cane.

"Let me show you." she said, looking at him with mischievous delight.

For a second his heart jumped into his throat at the mere thought of Elaine setting him free in the context of a bed. He swiftly put the perfect image out of his head, but not before she had seen his expression and laughed playfully at it. The flirtation could be cruel at times. After he sat on the bed, she took his arm gently and started to take the wrappings off his splint.

"It is time for these to come off for good this time. The bones should be healed by now." Slowly she removed the splint, revealing a slightly withered left arm. She was not surprised at how it appeared, but he seemed dismayed. She comforted him immediately.

"Do not worry Erik, in no time you will build up the muscles again." With gentle but firm hands, she scratched the itchy skin lightly and massaged the unused muscles. Feeling along the bones for alignment and the formation of the healing calluses, she was happy to find the bones straight and strong. He started to flex the hand for the first time in weeks.

"It hurts a little but it feels so good to move." He winced slightly but continued to move his fingers and wrist on his left hand. He looked beyond her to the mirror yet again. His face grew a little sad, in seeing his appearance in stark contrast to her beauty.

She followed his eyes to the mirror and looked back at him.

"I still don't know how you can look at me." he said softly, casting his eyes down.

"Erik, I have grown accustomed to your face. I suggest you do the same." She smiled and held the scarred side of his face gently with a warm, soft hand. He paused for a second, closing his eyes to drink in her touch.

He reached his hand up to cover hers, and their fingers entwined. Out of pure desire, he slid her hand over to his mouth and planted a few kisses in her palm. He opened his eyes to find her mouth opened slightly, her face wonderfully flushed and her soft eyes upon him. He could feel her pulse quicken under his lips as he kissed her wrist. With that, she let out a little sigh and shuddered slightly, her chest rising.

"Thank you, Elaine." He said, wanting to do so much more, but stopping, with whatever will he could muster.

"You are very welcome." She said breathlessly, allowing her hand to move slowly away from his face, but still attached to his hand. They sat there staring into each other's eyes, sensing for the first time how mutual the feelings were. She broke the spell with a smile.

"Oh, Erik, you almost made me forget! I have a surprise for you." As she walked swiftly from the room he breathed deeply and shook his head. She returned a few seconds later carrying a violin case. Erik beamed, his eyes widening as Elaine opened the case and pulled out a handsome violin and bow, a Stradivarius. "You must ease into playing it, though. Your muscles will not be ready for a symphony just yet."

He stroked the smooth wood and plucked at the strings, painfully moving his fingers into the positions he would use to play. He drew the bow across the strings, producing a beautiful sound. He then put the instrument down, back in the case and turned to her, his face grateful.

"I don't know what to say," he said. Erik stood up and Elaine approached him, putting her arms around him as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"You are welcome, Erik. Promise me you will play me a lovely song one day, once you are able." He nodded, with a wide smile. She laid her head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat as her hands stroked his back, melting into him.

"Of course I will. Every day," he said, resting his head against her soft hair, breathing her subtle scent in. His arms held her close, his hands feeling the warmth of her skin just underneath the delicate material of her dress. They held each other for several minutes, each not wanting to let go of the other. His lips found her forehead, and he kissed her gently. The moment was intense, yet innocent.

She heard someone call her name out side of the room and she jumped back, breaking the contact they had established. She walked out the room silently; looking back only to smile. Erik flew high on that interaction for days.

Back in the tree, Erik closed his journal and put the book away, his face becoming as serious as the thoughts within his head.

_I am better now, am I not? Dr Dyson did say, I was free to stay until I am better. I think my time in heaven may have to come to an end. I should leave, and seek out my past, what I was and where I lived. I doubt much could be better than this place, however. I should go, but I don't really want to. I will have to approach Dr. Dyson on this matter. I would hate to have him think I was taking advantage of his generosity. I will be sad to leave Capellen, but it is Elaine that I will miss something fierce._

Erik climbed swiftly down the tree, his speed aided by the rope he had attached securely to a high bough, left to hang down to about five feet off the ground. After he jumped down the last few feet, he walked over to the black stallion that awaited him. The horse greeted him with a soft nuzzle. He returned the affectionate gesture, stroking the strong face and patting the neck of his old friend, Caesar. Mounting the horse, he rode back down the path to the manor house slowly, thinking how best to approach this topic with Dr. Dyson.

In the manor house, Dr.Dyson stood in the window of his office, staring over the fields of Capellen. He looked down at a rather large letter that he had received via messenger earlier that day. It was addressed to him in unfamiliar writing:

"For the Eyes of Dr. Conrad Dyson ONLY. Confidential"

He ripped it open only to reveal multiple handwritten pages in Angelique's distinctively flamboyant cursive. He sat in his chair and started to read:

_My Dearest Dr. Dyson,_

_I hope my correspondence finds you well. If anyone else is reading this letter with you, including my dear friend Elaine, please cease and embark upon reading it at a later time when you are alone._

At that line, Dr. Dyson became troubled; it was unlike Angelique to keep secrets from her best friend.

_That said, I will begin. I write to inform you that since I left Capellen several weeks ago, I have launched a private investigation as to the origins of dear Erik, your border. My facts are not yet complete, however the information I have gleaned has caused me great concern for your wellbeing and the safety of the manor house and its inhabitants. I will now detail the facts as I have discovered them, so that you may form your own opinion. _

_I had taken a sample of Erik's composition, largely because I recognized the music. I had heard the music before, at the Opera Populaire, on the day of the great disaster. I wanted to find out where it came from, for even Erik was unsure if it was his composition or if he was simply just remembering the work of another. _

_I assumed that I would find my answers at the Opera Populaire. I had been there the day the chandelier fell, but due to a great stroke of luck, I was in the lobby with my husband when it happened. He did not want to hear more of the music he called "rubbish" and he insisted upon leaving shortly after the overture. I was upset at leaving because I found the music intriguing. I must admit, I thank my late husband for possibly saving my life that day by making us leave so abruptly. _

_I took the music to my connection, Monsieur Reyer, the conductor of the now destroyed opera house. He was my instructor when I learned to sing in the conservatory, but I digress. Once I showed him the page of the manuscript, he immediately collapsed into convulsions, exclaiming "Devil's music", refusing to speak further about it. I knew him as a reasonable gent in his younger days; I suspected that the goings on in the opera house have caused the man great mental anguish. In any case, he referred me to the managers and to a certain Madame Giry for further information. _

_When I confronted the managers, to my dismay they too seemed to be under the influence of a great hoax, a ghastly apparition that they called the Opera Ghost. They reported that the opera from which my manuscript page was taken was written by this being. Actually they shouted like madmen, on and on they chattered about a hideous creature with glowing eyes and death's mask that haunted the Opera House and terrorized them endlessly. They spoke hastily, like lunatics, on tales of murder and wickedness, blaming all the recent mishaps at the theatre, including the fall of the chandelier and the subsequent fire on this specter. After all of their ravings about an animalistic demon who had magic on his side, I believed my investigation was leading nowhere. Their descriptions bore no resemblance to your quiet Erik._

_It seemed as if I had proved at least one of their accusations false; that the monster had kidnapped a Mademoiselle Christine Daae, the star soprano that night. I found her alive and well staying with her fiancée at his residence. When I questioned them both about the night, and her alleged kidnapping, they denied it as a farce. They were particularly closed mouthed when I attempted to glean any more information on the Opera Ghost. My instinct told me that they were being less than truthful with me._

_I then looked for Madame Giry, who I finally found two days ago. I questioned her and she would give up no information until I handed her the page of manuscript. I told her I had found it in the street, after the fire that night. It was as if I had hit her across the face. She immediately recognized the piece of music, and remarked on the handwriting. She held the manuscript to her bosom, tears forming in her stern eyes. She spoke tenderly about the writer of the manuscript, as if she loved him as a brother, and was certain he was dead. _

_She told me a different tale. She spoke of a man with a horrible deformity who lived in the cellars of the opera house. "He was brilliant; an architect, a composer and a magician. But alas, a life of taunting and pain made him a malicious sort. " she said. Without speaking names, she told me a tale of a lover's triangle and unrequited love that convinced me that Mademoiselle Daae had indeed lied to me, and her silence was to protect someone. After she finished reciting the story, I asked about the murders and destruction attributed to this person, the Opera Ghost. She was overcome with emotion and took her leave immediately, refusing to "speak ill of the dead, particularly this Phantom." She refused to divulge his name. I daresay I am suspicious; I believe it to be Erik._

_My investigation is not yet complete. There is one other whom I must speak to, a fellow of Persian descent who is known only as the Daroga. I am convinced he has the information I require, but he has successfully avoided me, which is a difficult task, I assure you. The word is that he knows the Opera Ghost personally. _

_Now, Dr. Dyson you have all the facts as I know them at your disposal. You will do as you wish, but one thing is certain. This Opera Ghost is indeed a real, brilliant man, and one that may be devious, dangerous, and possibly deadly. I hope and pray I am wrong, that Erik is not this person, and it is all just a great coincidence. But, we being the learned people we are, we must take the information and all that it leads to, and proceed with caution to protect our loved ones. _

_In my correspondence with Elaine, it seems that she has grown quite attached to Erik. He has yet to regain his memories or so he says. I am sick with worry that Elaine will be hurt; but to be honest, I do not believe that Erik would ever hurt her. I am not as convinced about the Opera Ghost._

_I would have come to you personally with this information, but I am hopelessly mired in my ambassador responsibilities, and will be abroad for quite some time. _

_I hope this message finds you in time for the information to be useful. If not, I will never forgive myself for waiting. I beg you, please reply to me at once to let me know of your thoughts and actions on the matter. _

_I remain yours truly,_

_Baroness Angelique _

Dr. Dyson allowed his hand to drop to his lap after reading the last lines of her alarming letter. In his heart there was trepidation, in his mind there was disbelief. He was truly taken aback by her concern.

_I cannot believe it. I will not believe that the man I rescued from death, the brilliant, caring, creative soul I see in the man I now regard with such affection can be this creature of darkness and death. It is inconceivable to me…but I suppose it is possible…the most terrible things are possible…now what am I to do?_

He walked over to the window, his body heavy with the weight of the knowledge forced upon him. A quiet knock came at the door.

"Come in." Said Dr. Dyson, reflexively. He was deeply regretful he had been that quick the very next moment.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Dyson. I was wondering if I could have a word …with you…" Erik had walked in with a smile, his face changing to one of concern the moment he saw Dr. Dyson's expression. His voice trailed off, and the two men stood staring at each other across the room.

_Why does he appear as if he has seen a ghost?_ Erik wondered.

(I must admit to you all, this is one of my favorite chaps!-AW)


	23. Chapter 23

Chap 23

SMASH!

The sound of breaking glass rung out through the halls of the Castle Boursheid, making the inhabitants jump and quiver; all except one; the one who threw the empty bottle of whiskey angrily into the fireplace.

Montague stood at the mouth of the inferno, the remaining spirits flaming up in the hearth. The warmth of the fire did not warm his dark soul. It only reminded him of the burning disappointment eating a hole in his craw. He stood hunched over, a fuming heap of taut, angry flesh, his grip on the mantle so hard; it almost left a mark in the old stone.

He held the letter with distain before propelling it into the fire. In this letter, his father, the King of the Netherlands, the sovereign overseeing Luxembourg, had informed him that Montague's petitions to become Duke were denied. He had appointed someone else to replace the ailing duke.

_Why did he not choose me? Why? All I ever wanted to do was please the man but he never trusted me! He would not even give me the governance of this small, putrid country. He always hated me, favoring that illegitimate bitch from that little gypsy concubine of his. That is it! I have had enough of playing by his rules, or anyone's rules, for that matter.. _

Montague grabbed at one of his many swords and lashed it against the stone fireplace with great fury and strength, causing sparks to fly with his rage. He collapsed on the floor.

His ebony hair was unkempt, his robes soiled, his devilish blue eyes rimmed with red, painted that way by the many bottles of spirits he drank furiously, trying to numb his hatred and discontent.

He had not exited his room in the last week, except to rant and complain loudly in the dark stone halls of the castle, demanding that he be listened to and obeyed without question, viciously beating anyone who ventured too close. He laughed like a fiend to himself, amused as they scurried away from him like mice.

_I wonder if I killed that last one. I had to stop him from screaming. The idiot was hurting my ears with his caterwauling._

He looked at his hand and noted the dried blood splashed against his raw knuckles, and looked at the dark red stain running down his arm with satisfaction.

_It will take a river of this red substance to quench my thirst for revenge. Speaking of thirst…_

"Sedrick! Sedrick, you infernal fool! Where is the drink I demanded!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Sedrick, the chief servant at the castle, stopped in his tracks and turned around to look with hatred towards the bedroom of the self proclaimed leader, the Prince.

"Coming, Sire." He shouted back.

_You have no more royalty in you than the louses that lurk in your bed, you vile man. Nothing like your predecessors, _he thought bitterly.

Sedrick let his mind wander back to the pleasant days when this castle was occupied by the last true Marquis of The Ardennes. He and his family had been in the service of the royals that had graced these walls for years, and there was much mutual respect and adoration between master and servant. Even though Sedrick was a decorated soldier who was released from his servitude by the last Marquis, he returned to his post out of respect and a sense of fealty. This was the place he was born, where he met his wife and had his son. Alas, the old Marquis eventually died and the King of the Netherlands sent his son to take over the rule. This prince was the worst thing that ever happened to Castle Bourshied and its residents. Montague's questionable dealings and alliances with mercenaries and gypsies soon made the place unlivable.

Heavily, Sedrick plodded up the stone stairs and walked to the door, stopping to glare at the two mercenary bodyguards, large men with decrepit souls that followed Montague everywhere. Even their brutality held no candle to that of their employer. Montague no longer trusted Sedrick, so he hired these monsters to keep him safe even within his own dwelling.

_You are imprisoned even within your own house, you evil creature._

Sedrick threw open the door and walked in to face the beast with all of his remaining dignity.

"You called for me?" Sedrick said, noting the horrible state of the room and its inhabitant.

_Pity, you have not drunk yourself to death yet. _

Montague looked at the servant and thought for a second that he could release his rage on the pompous appearing ass before him, but he held back. Sedrick was a large, strong man well versed in hand to hand combat, with or without arms. Montague would be no match for him in his inebriated state; even that his dulled mind could figure.

The only reason Sedrick served him was because he held the lives of his wife and child in his grasp. Montague threatened that he would have his cute little boy's head delivered to his room if there was one false move by Sedrick. Montague would not release Sedrick from his responsibilities of running the castle. He was too knowledgeable of its workings, and the other servants here respected and obeyed him.

_No, he is too necessary now. Later, I will make him an example._

"You have let me run out of drink!" Montague said, stumbling over the empty bottles.

"I am sorry sire, but you are drinking like a man parched. It is difficult to keep up with your consumption," said Sedrick, wondering if he should poison a bottle and get it over with. No, the suspicious man had his bodyguards taste and drink anything before him, just for that reason. "I will fetch more. Is there anything else?" He said, barely waiting for the answer.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. Bring me a woman, a woman with fair hair and hazel eyes, and make sure she has breasts this time. The last one was way too flat." Montague fell back in his bed and rubbed at his loins. "I feel the need for some release tonight."

Sedrick shuddered. This was the most hated of his duties, and Montague knew it very well. He glared at the Prince with abhorrence as he recalled the state of the last woman, the unfortunate whore he led like a lamb to these horrible bedchambers. The last in a long line of women the molesting Prince used to feed his insatiable thirst for sex and sadism. When he was done with her he threw her violently out of the room. She was beaten badly, her small breasts bitten and scraped by this vile creature.

Guilt ridden, Sedrick had taken the wailing woman to his room and let her clean herself before taking her back home. The poor woman fainted, and he nearly vomited at the sight of the blood that streamed down her legs. Montague had tortured her.

"The whore houses will no longer grant me access. You mistreat their women so much so that they do not care how generous you are. They lose money on wenches that are unable to work for a month after being with you." Sedrick spat, crossing his arms and pacing. Montegue looked back at Sedrick with an evil grin. He was proud of his treatment of women.

"Fine. I will not maim the next one, I promise. I will treat her with the kindness I reserve for my dear, unloving Elaine." he said, his face twisting horribly thinking of his unreachable beauty.

_I have shown Elaine all of my charm and she still refuses to be with me. She will one day, I swear it. Even if it is against her will! But no, I do not want her to fight me. I want her to give her body to me without a fight so that she can experience all that she has been missing. Now how will I finagle that?_

Sedrick stood quietly, looking at the devious man's mind work. He feared for the safety of this woman, this Elaine, even though he did not know her. The Prince had decided that she was to be with him; that Elaine was destined to be his wife. It was Sedrick's understanding was that this woman, a friend of Montague's sister, Angelique, was a beautiful and compassionate lady, an angel in comparison to this devil.

_May God have mercy on this woman Elaine; keep her safe and far away from this brute. I do not know if I will be able to protect her from his lust. I could not even protect my own wife and child from his savagery. _

"Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Fetch my drink and my woman. On my word, I will not harm this one," Montague said, smiling with evil.

_Your word. What good is that?_ Sedrick thought.

"I will try," Sedrick said, turning to leave.

"You had better try hard. If you are not successful, I will gladly have your wife in her stead tonight." Montague snickered as he saw Sedrick freeze mid stride. The look of hatred Sedrick shot him warmed his heart

_Some day, Montague, some day. _

Later that night, Sedrick sat up in his bed, rocking and holding his hands to his ears. He was unable to sleep. The screams from the woman who was now imprisoned in the beast's den echoed through the dark halls of the castle.

_So much for your word…_

He was hoping that the screams were feigned ecstasy, but he knew better. The man who held him taut on his leash was indeed, pure evil…


	24. Chapter 24

Chap 24

Dr. Dyson and Erik stood unmoving for a short but uncomfortable moment in the office. Breaking the silence between them by clearing his throat, Dr. Dyson walked back to his desk chair.

"I'm sorry, Erik, I just heard some bad news about a friend." he said, briefly holding up the letter still in his hand. Erik nodded in understanding, the mood returning once again to that uncomfortable silence. Dr. Dyson rubbed his chin and forced a smile on his face; trying hard to act no differently towards Erik. He did not want him to see any change in his demeanor just because of the letter.

"I will come back at another time then," Erik said, turning to leave. Dr. Dyson forced his mind to function once again.

"No, Erik. Please, come, and sit down. I can always spare a moment for you." Erik paused at the door briefly, an expression of doubt on his face. "I want to hear whatever it is you have to say, it seems to be important," insisted Dr. Dyson, as he sat back down in his chair, leaning back with as much ease as he could manage at the moment.

_Whatever the allegations, I cannot just avoid this man I have come to know so well. Although I would have liked a little more time to really digest this information, I should begin my own investigation. _

Erik sighed heavily and closed the door with some trepidation. Dr. Dyson's eyes followed him as he sat down in the armchair before the desk. Dr. Dyson noted the look of indecision that flashed over his face. Erik's eyes rose to meet his.

"Dr. Dyson, I think it may be time for me to leave Capellen manor."

Dr. Dyson furrowed his brows. Hearing Erik talk about leaving actually bothered him, even after reading the letter. Erik was looking at him with an intensity Dr. Dyson thought strange.

"I see. You are free to go as you wish, of course, but, why now?" he queried.

"As you can see, my recovery is nearly complete. My injuries are fully healed. Dr. Dyson, you have been so gracious to me over the last two months, I feel that if I can fend for myself, I should go. I do not want to abuse the hospitality you shown me. I promise to repay you one day for your generosity, and that I will do so please, do not refuse."

"Nonsense, Erik. I stand firm on your not needing to repay me. And I do agree with you, most of your injuries seem to be healed. But what of your memories, Erik? Have they returned? Are they complete?" Dr. Dyson said, leaning forward.

"No, I am afraid not. I have not tried to remember any of my past for quite some time now, at your urging. Physically, I believe I am almost back to normal so my brain should be well healed by now, I imagine." It was Erik's turn to sit back in the chair. He tapped the chair of the arm, eyes downcast, his face becoming wistful. "I think that the time has come for me to find out who I was before I came here. I need to know my past before I can move forward." His eyes rose again to meet Dr. Dyson's gaze.

"I actually admire what you have become here, Erik," Dr. Dyson replied, masking an internal guffaw.

_Especially given what the letter says you were in the past. Your past will be shocking, of that I am certain._

"But memories do not respond to orders to reveal themselves, as you know." Dr. Dyson said. Erik smirked and nodded.

"Yes. I know. I can only hope that with the proper triggers, they will return," he said. Dr. Dyson was impressed; Erik had obviously been reading about amnesia in the medical literature, and how physical impulses such as sights, sounds and scents could trigger the release of buried memories.

Dr. Dyson opened his desk drawer, looking for a paper he had just been reading on the topic. He shut it quickly, seeing something that could be one such trigger rolling around within: the ring that he had pulled off of Erik's broken finger that fateful night. Dr. Dyson looked up at Erik, sitting before him, straight and confident. Dr. Dyson was actually in awe of his recovery. He decided that it was not the right time to bring the ring into the light.

"From the first day that you regained consciousness, Erik, I told you that you were welcome here." Dr. Dyson rose abruptly from his chair. "Come, take a walk with me." Dr. Dyson grabbed a coat and walked out the door past Erik with a swift stride. Erik followed.

Dr. Dyson's brain began to spin as they walked together silently in the afternoon breeze. He made up his mind, that very moment. Whatever awaited them, whoever Erik turned out to be, devilish prankster or murderer, he would stand by him. They strolled towards the path that led through the busiest part of the manor. Dr. Dyson's gaze turned to the azure skies and cotton clouds.

_My friend François, you are dead, at peace now. Here is the little boy you once wanted to rescue, now a man, walking next to me. He has been through so much. We have only seen the physical scars, the ones he was born with and the ones that have been inflicted on him. There are many more emotional scars left to be revealed. Ominous, frightful memories are waiting to surface, that I know. _

_I see it as fate that he came to me, beaten and near death. It is only right for me, your student and friend, to be the one to take up your cause, to save him, heal him now as an adult if I can. Whatever he was in his past, I am sure it was the product of many terrible experiences in this wretched, hateful world. A world that will not accept a boy, a man who looks as he does. _

_Erik has a heart capable of love, compassion, and generosity as far as I can tell. That is plain enough to see. He is a brilliant, creative human being. He is living freely now, without the shackles of his tortured past, but that will change eventually, probably soon. I have made my decision. I will show him the mercy I believe he deserves. Too many people have given up on him before. First his mother, then god knows who else. _

Dr. Dyson saw Erik's demeanor change as they walked wordlessly. His shoulders relaxed, and his stride became effortless. He could sense the peace and resolve work its way into Erik's mind. Dr. Dyson eventually stopped, holding out his hand, talking with pride about his land.

"Capellen manor seems to have a strange effect on people. They would come to visit family or friends, experience the comfort and good natured atmosphere, and the next thing I know, I would be asked if they could stay. I am quite used to it, actually. All I demand is that each one who wants to stay pulls their own weight." He walked a few more steps and pointed to a small house that was currently being constructed. "As you see, there is always a new house being built, so much so that the area surrounding the manor house is beginning to look like a town." He smiled, his blue eyes scanning over the fields.

"We produce almost all of our own food. The grain and vegetable fields grow abundantly. Our livestock is healthy and thriving, our orchards and berry bushes are laden with the most delicious fruit. We are told, it is the best tasting produce sold in the nearby markets. Our vineyards produce several varietals, some of which we sell in town. We have an almost unlimited supply of wood from the forests of the manor lands and fresh water from a tributary of the Eisch River. The people who live here are content. Elaine and I treat everyone like family. In return, we are blessed, really. It is a like an oasis, my Capellen."

"You have much to be proud of, Dr. Dyson. You have created a little bit of heaven right here on earth," said Erik. "And I have been blessed by its angels." Dr Dyson turned to him.

"As far as I am concerned, Erik, the length of your stay is indefinite. Some things may change after your memory returns; however, my offer will still stand." Dr. Dyson reached out his hand to Erik. "I trust you will find a way to pull your weight, Erik. Your intellect and talents will be an asset to us here." Erik was rendered speechless. Erik took his outstretched hand shook it, in a gentleman's agreement. As they walked back to the house, Erik found his voice again.

"Dr. Dyson, the problem is that I don't think I will regain my memories here. I have made so many good, new memories here, they overshadow the old. I need to go and visit other places, old places. That may help bring back old memories."

"So…you have a good idea of where you should go? The world is a big place," Dr. Dyson asked, gazing over at Erik. "It is not exactly easy for you to travel, I would imagine." Erik looked towards the physician with a confused expression. Realization swept over his countenance. Dr. Dyson was referring to his scarred face, now partially hidden by his hair.

"I guess you are right. I cannot just ride around town in broad daylight. It will take some planning. I suspect I will not head out for several weeks. In any case, I was thinking about heading to Paris. The place always floats into my thoughts." Erik looked down to ground and kicked at a rock, hands in his pockets. "To tell you the truth, I am worried about what I may find there." Eric gazed over the fields, his mind far away. "I am not sure I want to face my past, Dr. Dyson, but I think I must."

"Do what you feel you should, Erik. If you need anything, all you need do is ask. I am sure Nate could go with you." Dr. Dyson walked up the path to the manor house behind Erik. "Funny enough, I was thinking of taking a trip to Paris myself," said Dr. Dyson. Erik stopped short, turning around to him, face serious.

"I am sure this is one trip I should definitely make alone. But I am deeply grateful that Capellen is here for me to return to." Dr. Dyson nodded, and walked past Erik through the front door of the manor house.

"By the way, your music floating around the manor house has made me want to play the piano again. But I am afraid that I am sorely out of practice and may be in need of a few lessons, to help me find my hands again. Do you know anyone who may be able to help?" he said, turning to Erik with a smile as sly as a fox.

"I would be honored," said Erik, returning the smile. The two men entered into the foyer, meeting Elaine. Her eyes lit up upon seeing them.

"Elaine, over for dinner?" Said Dr. Dyson, walking up to her, giving her hug.

"I could not stay away from your cooks if I wanted to, Father. Roland is already here. Good afternoon, Erik." Elaine smiled shyly at Erik as she warmly greeted her father. Erik gave her a quiet nod, and after an intense look, walked towards the kitchen. Elaine followed him as if drawn by a magnet. Dr. Dyson soon realized the light in her eyes was not on his account.

Dr. Dyson walked back into the office, reflecting upon the interactions he had witnessed between Erik and Elaine with great curiosity. Angelique was right. When they were in a room with others, it was if the other people were not there. They always stood closely together and talked with each other in soft, gentle tones. Elaine was very intuitive about this man, Erik. It was as if she felt his pain and discomfort like her own. Recently, she was saying that Erik was 'feeling the need for some privacy.' Dr. Dyson had agreed with her assessment; Erik did seem as if he was becoming irritated, frustrated with the constantly busy nature of the manor house. Dr. Dyson surmised that in his past life, Erik must have been somewhat of a loner, if not entirely by choice. Habits are difficult to change.

Dr. Dyson recalled seeing Erik alone on most occasions, writing in the journal he took with him everywhere. He had taken to spending most of his time wandering the manor lands, and climbing the trees, of all things. That is, when he was not laughing quietly with Elaine. He went to stand by the window, suddenly becoming worried about how close his daughter was becoming to Erik, in the context of what he read in the letter. How close have they really become?

In his heart he knew Erik would never hurt Elaine if he could help it. They obviously cared very much for each other. Dr. Dyson shook his head, wondering how he could have missed the signs before. His gaze rested upon the River Cabin and his mind wandered.

A little less than half a mile away was the one bedroom cottage he had lovingly built for his wife, a place for relaxation and solace to ease her heartache from her many miscarriages. A part of him died when his darling Tina, as he called her, was taken from them by puerperal fever. All his learning, all his powerful medicine could not save her life just days after she had given birth. He found the strength to go on because his beautiful little daughter needed him. She had her mother's soft hazel eyes and had grown up to be such a lovely, intelligent woman. She would have made her mother proud.He put on his coat and took a stroll down to the cottage for the first time in years, lost in his thoughts along the way.

Conrad and Clemencia were and example of love at first sight, married within months of their meeting. The daughter of the former Duke, she was an avid musician who played the violin, flute, and piano, among other instruments. He had met her at a Royal function when he returned to Luxembourg after studying at the Clinical School in Paris. That night, when they danced together, everyone else ceased to exist. He would have proposed on the spot, but he thought it was a crazy idea. Later on, she confessed to him that she would have accepted, as crazy as it sounded. The fact that he just happened to be royalty made their short engagement easier to tolerate for the Duke. They were the perfect couple with the perfect life, except for the fact that she could not bear a child to term.

It was not a big problem for him, but Clemencia grew depressed and withdrawn, scaring Conrad with her crying spells and hopelessness. Conrad had insisted that they could adopt, but Clemencia desperately wanted a child from their union, blood of their blood. The River Cabin was a place where they both could get away from the hustle and bustle of the busy manor house, and where she could be alone to immerse herself in her other love, music. That is where Elaine was conceived, he was certain. He reached the front porch, sad to see how it was littered with twigs and leaves. There used to be flower baskets hanging from the rafters, and white rockers facing the river.

He walked into the cabin, and was pleasantly surprised to see it so well kept. He knew that the maids at the manor house came over with Marjorie to fix up the cabin and clean it several times a year, almost as homage to Clemencia, their beloved Countess. His eyes grew full as he walked past the table neatly set for two near the large picture window, and looked at the music cases against the wall.

There were her instruments; a cello, a flute, and a clarinet. Against the eastern wall stood an upright piano, lovingly polished but appearing lonely. The instruments were waiting for their mistress to return and touch them again. She would never return. He had let Elaine give Erik a precious, priceless gift: her mother's violin. Erik adored that gift and put to good use. The stringed instrument sang often, the beautiful melodies making everyone stop what they were doing in the manor house to listen when he played in the evenings.

Dr. Dyson walked over to her picture hanging over the piano; he touched the gorgeous face and a tear left his eye. It had been over twenty five years since he last felt the warmth of Clemencia's embrace. The door opened behind him and he spun around in surprise. Marjorie nearly jumped out of her skin, not expecting him to be there.

"Oh, you scared me half to death, Dr. Conrad!" she said, patting her chest and breathing hard with surprise.

Marjorie was a prim and proper French lady. She had an air of stern aloofness, but it was just a mask to protect a soft, shy personality. She had worked for the Dysons for most of her life, starting when she had barely turned 18, right before Clemencia died. She was hired as a nanny for Elaine, but she ended up having to be more like a mother. 'Dr. Conrad' was as close as he could get Marjorie to being less formal with him. She had said she just did not feel it proper to call him by his first name publicly, even though he had insisted on it for years.

"I did not expect you either." He laughed, trying to wipe the tears out of his eyes without her noticing. She noticed. She noticed everything about him.

"I am sorry to have intruded upon a private moment, I will return later." She said, lowering her eyes, turning to leave.

"It is no problem at all, Marjorie. Please stay. What were you going to do here, anyway?"

"Just a bit of cleaning, Doctor. It is too lovely a place to just let it go. I just finished dusting and polishing, and now I will change the linens, and clean off the porch." She carried a laundry basket over to the bed that graced the bedroom in the far corner of the cabin. The four posted bed was hung with fine curtains like mist. She knocked on the pot belly stove that served to warm the cabin on chilly days. "It gets dusty here with disuse."

"You spend so much time and energy here. Why?"

"I am not really sure. It is more like a habit at this point. I have always loved this cabin; so private and peaceful." She turned to him with one of her signature stern looks. "May I speak plainly, sir?"

"But of course, Marjorie," he replied, approaching her.

"I feel that this place wants to be more alive than it is. It is a shame to me that it has become nothing more than a lovely shrine." She looked at him seriously.

"Then why don't you stay here? I know how nice it can be to be by yourself sometimes. I would not mind it one bit, Marjorie."

"No thank you, Dr. Conrad. I love the people and the energy of the manor house too much. I would just feel alone here. This place is meant to be a place of peace and healing; to be used by one who likes to spend time alone to read, to draw, to play music. It is a great, quiet place to create." She hoped he would read into what she was saying. "It would be good for someone to breathe some life into this beautiful little place." He looked at her with wonder.

"Are you thinking of Erik?"

"Yes! I see how you have grown to favor him. He is a remarkable man, I can see that too. The manor house confuses him. I think he feels ashamed to be there, like a burden. I think these private accommodations would be more to his liking."

He walked around the cabin slowly. It had all the amenities necessary to function as a flat. It would be perfect; close enough, but far enough away.

"It would be a good place for him to get some much needed privacy." he thought aloud.

"I think he would see it like that. But why don't you run your idea by Elaine, she seems to have a good idea of his likes and dislikes." She smiled internally.

"Yes, that she does. I will think about it. And I will not take the credit for this one, Marjorie." He said, turning around and smirking at her. She beamed. Seconds later, his expression grew serious. He knew if there was anyone he could talk to about what he had just learned, it would be her.

"May I discuss something important with you, Marjorie? I feel you are someone I can turn to."

"Of course you can," she said, growing curious.

"It is just that I have heard some disturbing things about Erik. About his past. I trust you will keep our conversation from here on confidential, even from Elaine."

"Yes of course. Did he tell you these things?" Marjorie said, sitting down in the window seat. Dr. Dyson followed and sat next to her.

"No, but I have gotten my information from a reliable source. It seems that he may have been in some kind of trouble before, severe trouble. I do not think his actions have all been admirable. I believe he may have done some terrible things."

"I had assumed that, Dr. Dyson. Most people do not ride alone on dark roads at night like he did. And we really do not know why he got attacked or by whom. It could have been someone repaying him for some wickedness, we do not know." She paused for a second. "Do you think he can be dangerous? Given what I have seen, I find that hard to believe."

"I agree with you. He does not seem like a terrible man, but I have seen physical scars of horrible abuse. What that can do to the heart of a human being is devastating. Never mind the emotional pain he must have experienced growing up in this vain world." Marjorie nodded.

"I cannot even imagine; it must have been awful. But one can recover from such pain. Look at Nathaniel; he ran from England at a young age, away from a brutal father that used to beat him daily. It took him years to even tell us about it. He is one of the sweetest people I know." Dr. Dyson sighed heavily.

"My heart tells me to support him, Marjorie, come hell or high water, but I am just not sure. I have already told him he could stay here, at Capellen as long as he wishes. I do not know if that was wise thing to do. I do not want to endanger us in any way. Blast it, I am just uncertain of what to do, to think." She reached out and held his hand.

"Conrad, please don't doubt your judgment. Go with your gut instinct. You can always trust that. I think you will make the right decision; even though following through with it may not be the easiest thing to do. If what you say is true, when his memory returns he will be anything but easy."

"Thank you, Marjorie. For everything." He said, squeezing her hand.

"Anytime." She said, getting up to continue her chores. He glanced at her for a few moments as she flitted about the cabin. She was so full of energy. He walked up to Marjorie as she picked up the broom to go outside. He took it from her hands.

"I can take care of that task, Marjorie," he said.

"No, Doctor…" she resisted. He held her hand gently, and on impulse, put a gentle kiss on her fingers. Marjorie actually blushed, looking up at him with wide eyes, surprised at the familiar contact.

"I would like us to ride back home together. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go." he said, convincingly. "And I do not know the first thing about fixing a bed. This, I can handle." He walked outside and started his chore, leaving her speechless.

"I would like that," she whispered to herself as she looked at him on the porch, suddenly feeling twenty years younger.

Just before leaving the river cabin, their chores done, Conrad walked over to look at Clemecia's picture once again.

"I miss you, my dear. I feel your presence in my heart even now. Everyone who comes here can feel it." He said, smiling at the warm eyes. "You felt my loneliness, and called us here, didn't you, darling?" He sighed. " I hope your loving spirit can help Erik find some peace."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapt 25

"Are you sure?" Said Erik.

"Positive," said Elaine. Yet, a little quiver in her voice betrayed her.

"If you want to reconsider, now is the time," Erik asked again. He was holding her hands gently in his. Elaine was sure he was sensing just a bit of her doubt. His pale green eyes looked deeply into hers. They mesmerized her sometimes.

"No, no. I can do this, Erik. I want to do this," she replied.

Erik smiled to himself as he studied her face, which was decorated with the gorgeous expression of excited anticipation. She flashed that amiable smile again, squeezed his hands one last time, then let them go.

"Now, Erik, before I change my mind."

Elaine looked up into the green canopy, then took another look at the man before her; she trusted Erik immensely. Erik took a step back.

"Well then, here we go," he said.

Erik reached down and picked up a rope, which he tied to the harness around his slim hips and waist. He looked one more time to Elaine, who had not changed her position. Leaping upward, he grabbed the rope, pulling it down, hand over hand quickly. Elaine shouted out with glee as the harness around her pulled her upward into the canopy. She felt the rush of air past her face, and shut her eyes, holding her breath.

_My, this feels incredibly fast. How can he lift me that fast?_

"Ok, Elaine, jump onto that branch now!" He shouted, from a frightening number of feet below her. She opened her eyes, grabbed at the branch in front of her and seated herself astride. She was surprised to find the large bough rather easy to sit on, now that she was dressed comfortably in Erik's clothes.

_Do not look down._

Elaine remembered him drumming that into her head. She concentrated on looking outward, over the gorgeous landscape like he said to. Elaine had never looked at her home from this vantage point before. What a splendid view it was.

The cattle spotted the fields below, and the workers were buzzing around the houses. The fields of wildflowers were positively brilliant, the colors changing as they moved in the mild breeze. There was a constant rustling filling the air as leaves met leaves; an occasional bird broke into song to punctuate the natural harmony.

The tree he took her to for her first "flying lesson" as he called it, was the Tower; the big old man on the edge of a bluff overlooking the wide river and the lush lands of Capellen manor. The rope wrapped around her harness stayed taught as Erik fastened it to a sturdy branch at the base of the tree. He checked it twice. This safety line was protecting something precious. Erik quickly scaled the wide trunk of the tree, making just enough noise to announce his arrival but not so much as to startle her. He settled onto the large bough behind her and wrapped his arms around her, provoking a little gasp on her part. She looked back at him. He was so close now.

"Just being careful, my Lady. Just a little extra measure of safety," Erik spoke softly in her ear. "Do you like the view?" Elaine nodded quickly, turning her smiling face and wide eyes to the landscape once more.

_So do I._ He thought, his eye resting on the silhouette of her face, outlined by the gentle tendrils of her hair. The rest of the sweet-scented softness was pulled back loosely in a bun. Erik breathed in her fresh, characteristic scent. It was difficult for him to be this close to her and resist the urge to put his lips on her outstretched neck.

Erik had made a promise to himself; to keep their relationship as just friends until his memory had returned. The fact was, however, that the closeness and familiarity they had become accustomed to had gone way beyond the bounds that any friendship should. He closed his eyes and melted into her. He smiled, remembering what brought them here.

Elaine went for walks through the woods surrounding the manor during the evening practically every day. She would laugh when Erik, perched up in the treetops like a bird, would drop flowers or leaves around her. Erik climbed trees often; climbing was good exercise for his flexible frame and kept him extremely robust. He would sit in the trees for hours on end with an internal symphony playing in his mind, composing at a furious rate. It was as if the part of his mind that was once filled with old memories was trying to fill itself with music.

Elaine had constantly asked Erik to describe what he saw from the treetops. Being afraid of heights, she was unable to scale the trees with him, despite her agility. She had not been afraid of heights as a child; these fears developed later, as a part of the same terror that gripped her since Paris. After some discussion and persuasion on his part, Erik picked out the tree, attached a pulley system and they planned her first flight. She was successful on this, her third and last attempt.

Up in the boughs of the Tower, Elaine leaned back into Erik, settling into his arms comfortably, her eyes roaming the landscape with wonder. Erik felt the now familiar ache in his heart as her warm body laid against his. She felt so correct, so right. Sometimes, Erik thought that he could not continue with this charade, that he would have to risk telling her how he felt, embarking upon something more deep with Elaine. It was getting to the point where he would have to kiss her, or stop the closeness they had developed. He did not know which would make him go mad first; being with her only in this capacity, or being without her touch.

Elaine placed her warm hands on the arms wrapped around her. She loved the way she felt around Erik; sensual, desired, a woman adored. She longed to hold him in an intimate sense, kiss him, share love with him one day. The close friendship they developed was just a tease to her; a necessary deception masking her feelings until his past was revealed. She wanted to make sure he did not have a lover to return to. Despite his appearance, Elaine believed the man holding her could have a woman who loved him. She did not want to begin anything with Erik, to spare him having to decide whose heart would be broken.

As for him, Erik was fairly certain he was not attached, but he knew the name: Christine. It wandered into his thoughts at the most inopportune times. The presence of her memory, and his lack of knowing her significance in his life bothered him to no end. He had drawn a vague picture of a beautiful brown haired woman one day that he was sure was her. He was hoping Christine would turn out to be a relative, a sister, but his internal cues suggested otherwise. There were also the faint memories of atrocities and brutal thoughts that haunted him, sometimes associated with her. He did not like what he saw of that part of himself.

Elaine reached up and back, rubbing her knuckle against Erik's chest, bringing him all at once into the present. He stirred against her,

"Elaine, please stop." He said, heart aching. Despite what his mouth said, he pressed his face into her dark blonde hair, kissing her head.

"I wonder if we are doing the right thing. Life is to short, don't you think?" She said, thinking aloud.

Her arm reached up to around his neck and she looked up at him. She was now only inches away; she felt the muscles in his neck tense up, and then relax. His eyes closed for a second, and she saw in his face that he was enjoying her touch. Their closeness was playing tricks with her resolve and his ability to resist her. Abruptly, his eyes opened. He looked at her and sighed.

"I think it is time to descend now. I do not want vertigo to grab hold of you." He said, standing up, seemingly ignoring her last statement. Elaine tucked away her disappointment.

_Still, he remains just beyond my reach. He continues to hold back._

Erik climbed down the tree first and undid her safety line. Elaine followed, on her own, staying close to the tree trunk as he held the rope securely, allowing the loose safety line to follow. He studied her during her descent; she looked quite attractive in his clothes. Erik had insisted she change because she would not have been able to climb trees in a dress. The required uniform had some unintended benefits; the tailored cut leaving little to be imagined of her feminine form. She had wrapped his shirt around her and fastened it such that it was actually quite feminine and alluring.

After she stepped away from the tree, he helped her out of the harness and kissed her hand.

"I agree with you, life is too short. We must fly again, and soon, my Lady." He always kissed her palm and the inside of her wrist, not only the top of the hand; this gesture being so much more intimate. She smiled as his lips sent a chill up her arm right to her heart. He did hear her.

Gathering up their supplies, they traveled in close proximity back towards the manor house. They followed the trail a while, then they veered off, taking a shortcut across the hayfield. Erik remained a little detached, debating whether he should tell Elaine that he was planning a trip to Paris. She was intuititve enough to know a trip like that could mean the discovery of his past, and an end to his present. But he was enjoying the silence, so he decided not to say anything.

"See there–the hawk, flying upwards", Elaine said, gripping his arm and pointing to the right as they walked slowly through the fields. "I have always envied birds, they are so free. But when you see the hawks and how they accost their meals midair, you realize that with freedom is a risk: Fear of death, fear of starvation. For all good things there is a price."

Erik threw his head back and looked up at the hawk, circling around, and rising effortlessly on a column of warmed air. He loved the strength, the elegance of these birds of prey.

"I did not notice it before." He said.

"It is probably because you allow your hair to cover your eyes, Erik. You miss things. And I am afraid you will hurt yourself when you go climbing for lack of vision." Elaine returned, releasing a little of the annoyance she had with the way he insisted on wearing his hair. His hair had grown long and thick, such that with little urging, it hung over the right side of his head, covering the patch of scalp that was bare and obscuring his scars. But it also blocked his right eye to a degree. He had gotten quite used to it. Elaine loved to see his pale green eyes, both, together, especially in the brightness of the day. They were so expressive, they changed with the lighting, his clothes and his moods.

"At least you will not have to be subjected to my countenance. I usually pull it back when I exercise so do not worry yourself, Elaine." He looked to his side, but he was now walking unaccompanied. He halted and looked back behind him. There Elaine stood, several paces away, face serious, looking at him intensely. "What is it?" He said, confused by her actions.

"Have I ever told you that I do not wish to be 'subject to your countenance'?" Elaine said.

"No…" he said, still confused.

"Have I ever given you the feeling that your appearance, your deformity bothers me at all?" She had walked up to him in a few swift strides.

"No. You are too kind a lady to say such things," he replied. Elaine groaned her disapproval.

"Have I ever seemed more comfortable around you when your face is covered, compared with when it is not?" She said, approaching him, standing directly in front.

"No. I did not mean…"

"Then why do you think you are doing me a favor by covering that which is a part of you? That which you cannot change?" She said, her hazel eyes flashing. Erik stared at her.

"Because I am usually more comfortable when it is covered. When others cannot see my scars, I don't have to see the look in their eyes. It is not always pleasant. I had just assumed you would be more comfortable…"

"Don't confuse me with anyone else, Erik. They don't care about you like I do!" She snapped. Erik did not know how to respond.

"I am sorry, Elaine." He just wanted to stop her from ranting at him.

"When you first awoke, the very thing you first did was to cover your face. I had hoped that you would trust me enough by now, and know me well enough to not hide from me, Erik. Or to say things like that. Your face is a part of you that I accepted from the very first moment I saw you. It hurts me to see how much your appearance overshadows you. You are such a wonderful, complex being inside. That is what I see when I look at you." Her voice cracked with her last statement. Erik was touched.

_How can I prevent myself from falling in love with this woman? God help me. _

Elaine took a minute to look at Erik carefully. So many emotions were crossing his face.

_He finds it so hard to believe he can be accepted, loved, for who he is. Enough is enough. I can't take it anymore. _

On impulse, Elaine leaned up to him and took his face in her hands. She had been waiting for so long to do this. She planted a full wet kiss upon his lips.

It was like being struck by lightning for him. Erik stood barely moving, barely breathing as her kiss sank into him. Her soft, sweet lips on his felt too good to be true. She pushed the hair away from his face to behind his ear. Slowly, gently she kissed along the deformity on his cheek. Each tender, sensuous kiss left a burning trail on his skin. He sank down to his knees as her kisses, soft and moist, caressed his face. The heart that had been standing still in his chest started to pound. It echoed in his ears, all else became silent. His arms felt weak, heavy as he lifted them to surround this beautiful woman, kissing him. She was kissing him, his face; his scarred, ugly face. He breathed in heavily.

As he fell to his knees, she followed. She held his face gently, continuing to kiss his cheek, his chin, his forehead and closed eyes, covering his face with her acceptance. She tasted the salt water coming from his eyes. The green orbs opened and stared at her with adoration, then sadness.

"You don't have to do this, Elaine," he said as his heart ached, hoping against hope that she was not kissing him out of pity. He would not be able to live with that.

"Erik, I have wanted to kiss you for an eternity," She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his again. Their mouths opened and tongues hungry to taste each other entwined. Her hand pressed against the back of his head as their impassioned kiss continued. She pushed her body against his. His skin awoke with her warmth.

His arms found new life as he wrapped them around her graceful, slender frame. The feel of her against him filled his soul, which was ripping open to allow her in. He allowed his hands to enjoy the sensation of caressing her back and shoulders, and down beyond her tapered waist. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her onto him, even closer.

They fell over into the tall grass, mouths searching for skin, breath hot with passion, hands reaching under clothing to touch each other's body, to find the things they had been yearning to feel. With all the movement, her already loose clothing had opened, revealing the soft, fair skin of her neck and bosom, visibly flushed underneath the masculine clothes. Her hair had loosened as well, hanging over her shoulders seductively.

He took a moment to sit up with her and hold her away from him, his eyes tracing every inch of the skin on her gorgeous face, her languid neck, and to the glowing landscape revealed by her wayward clothing.

She looked at his face, seeing his eyes burning with desire. She felt his fingers gently trace where his eyes had just wandered, thrilling her with their slowness. Those hands she had seen gently stroke the keys of the piano were now playing her, like an instrument longing to sing.

She ran her hands underneath his loosened shirt, feeling the muscles of his well defined chest, shoulders and back underneath her fingertips, against her palms. His body shivered with her touch. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as she felt him move his hands all over her body, his lips moving slowly down her neck…

Erik relished every sensation, every signal from his wandering fingers. They traveled over her curves, and dallied in her valleys before climbing her peaks. Pressed firmly against her neck, his lips felt her pulse pounding rapidly under the skin. He heard a little sigh escape from her, and looked up to find her luscious lips parting, her head tilting back with rapture, her eyes fluttering. Her obvious enjoyment of his caresses awoke the fires of passion within him. He could not believe that his touch, his attentions could be causing this much mutual pleasure, this much beauty.

_This is not pity…this is ecstasy. _


	26. Chapter 26

Chap 26

After her glorious exhale, a smile arose on Elaine's lips as she felt Erik's mouth return to her neck, kissing her more urgently now, experiencing the sweetness of her smooth skin. He was awakening desires within her that had been silent for too long.

She was swept away with the moment, until her eyes fluttered open and she realized that she was staring out across the hayfield. The sky was a dark blue, and she could see the manor house rising in the background.

_Oh no! If I can see above the tall grass, that means we can easily be seen!_

"Erik, stop." She said suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back to the ground quickly, He fell onto his side, a surprised, disappointed look on his face. She crouched down and crawled next to him. She laid down facing him, stroked his arm reassuringly, and rested her head on her folded arm. Erik seemed defensive, his body tense, his eyes questioning. Elaine looked into his face with concern.

"I just realized how visible our little foray was." She said, still breathing heavily as she rearranged her clothing to be less revealing.

"I don't..." he started, then sat up and looked around the hay field. The expression on his face softened; he realized just then what she had meant. "I see. Yes, I agree, it would have been a little awkward if anyone just happened on by. " he replied. His intense eyes lowered to meet hers. "I thought you had regained your senses and realized your mistake." Elaine shook her head.

"I finally did come to my senses. Trust me Erik, that was no mistake," Elaine said gently, a sweet smile on her lips. She reached up, wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers again. As they shared a deep kiss again, he stretched his body out next to hers, wrapping his arm around her. She pressed her body against his, making him gasp.

No amount of casual contact they already experienced together was as intense as this. Erik felt a bit overwhelmed. He leaned back a bit, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow spiked on the ground. Elaine grew playful, giving him a quick peck on the chin, stroking the skin on his chest that was revealed by the open shirt. Her gentle touch further reassured him.

Her hand, which was still resting on his chest, moved down his body to rest on his slender waist. She glanced down at he shiny scars on his chest; they extended towards his stomach. She grew sad, seeing his badges of pain.

_You have so much healing to do, Erik. I hope I am up to the challenge._

Erik felt he had walked into a dream. This woman, this beautiful woman had kissed him, and allowed him to caress her. He sighed and placed his hand on her head, lightly stroking her soft cheek. They looked into each others eyes intently. He was wondering what the she was thinking about the recent turn of events. Becoming lost in her eyes, he felt emotion burning within him. He had been feeling something for her, but had not expected his feelings to blossom all at once, and so soon, if at all. He kissed her forehead gently. She lifted her face to his and kissed him again, tenderly on the lips. His eyes closed and, in his mind, he said it to her…

_Elaine, now I know it. I love you…_

A pang of alarm went through his chest, an uncomfortable pain that he was not expecting. It made him gasp and pull away from her. His eyes opened and he was traumatized at what he saw.

He was looking into the brown eyes of Christine, her brown locks framing her face. She was smiling, just like Elaine was just seconds before. He gasped and fell back away from her, clenching his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his hands into his lying sockets.

_Elaine, Christine– What the hell is going on?!_

"No, no, no, NO! This can't be happening!" he said in a low growl. Gripped with fear and feeling sanity rushing away from him, he opened his eyes slowly.

It was Elaine who sat before him now, her body pulled defensively into a tight ball, her face pale with shock. The look on her face propelled him instantly into the depths of despair.

He backed up more, bristling with anger at the image that had violated this most sensuous, long awaited moment. He turned over onto his hands and knees, body quaking with the force of emotions rushing through him, and in a rage he pounded his fists into the ground, screaming curses.

"How dare you!! Damn you to hell woman!! Get out of my head, leave me alone!!" The image of the brown haired woman burned into his mind as he released his anger.

Elaine cowered back, not understanding the metamorphosis that was occurring in front of her. He finally stopped, gasping deeply.

"Why do you curse me?" She said, voice cracking with fear.

His head whipped up and he stared at her, an intense, maddened glare shooting from his eyes. He reached out to her, unable to control the tremble in his fingers. He drew his hand back with a deluge of frustrated curses. He became still.

A soft, quivering hand touched his shoulder. He gripped it quickly, before she was able to withdraw it, provoking a little surprised gasp from her.

"I am not cursing you, Elaine, I could never curse you. I ... care for you too much I curse HER, I curse the memory of HER, etched into my mind. I curse Christine!!"

Her name was but a growl as he buried his head in his arms, doubled over, fists clenched in anguish.

_I would give anything; sell my soul to bring back that sweet moment. Her tender kiss is still warm on my lips, my face. I just want to hold her close to me again and forget about all else. Damn you for interrupting it, Christine, whoever you are._

Elaine sat still, a dread entering her and spreading, ice cold through her body. The name he uttered drilled a hole in her heart. She was mortified.

_Oh, no…Christine._ She thought, painfully recalling the name that Erik had whispered to her as he lay dying that fateful night. That name could have been his last word ever, had it not been for Elaine's refusal to let him die. To her dismay, he continued.

"She lurks in here," he said grasping his hair, as if wanting to physically rip her memory out of his head. "Her face haunts me. I think I hate her, but somehow, I think, I know, I don't." he said, a confused, distant look on his face. He rolled over onto his back, a sardonic laugh coming from his throat. It was eerie and misplaced. Again he laughed, sitting up.

"To think…the face of a beautiful woman, haunting ME!" he said, the irony thick on his tongue. His grip on reality was being tested. All Elaine could do was watch in horror as he became unraveled in front of her. He clutched at the thin fabric over his heart and breathed, deep and agonizing.

"Her memory will not leave me alone, especially when I am with you." He said, looking at her with some clarity, longing in his eyes.

She regained her courage and crawled up to him, timidly. She was feeling guilty now.

"Erik…I have heard you say her name before." She said, with a tremble in her voice.

He shot her an angry look, laden with the betrayal he felt. "When?" He blurted out.

"When you first came to us, the night you lay dying…"

"And you did not think that important enough to share with me? After all the time we spent together?" He stood up, his anger rising again, now directed at Elaine. "Why? How could you?" He yelled with a cruelty neither thought was possible.

"I forgot, I forgot!" She said, starting to cry. She had recalled the name a several times before, but had not told him because she feared what would happen. It seems her fears were well founded.

Guilt mixed with all the other emotions tumbling through his brain. Erik now felt in the wrong for scaring her, making her beautiful eyes cry. He hated the fact that he was causing her pain. Each tear that she shed stabbed him like a dagger. He struggled to formulate a rational explanation for his outburst. He knelt down in front of her, trying to control his voice.

"Elaine, I am just upset that you would hold something like that back from me. I trusted you. She, her memory was the only thing standing between us." He swallowed hard and asked the final question.

"Is there anything else you have forgotten to tell me?" He said, as gently as he could.

Elaine looked up at him and wanted to say no, but instead, she gasped with realization. He saw her sudden response and knew. The scared look in her eyes told him she was holding something back, but he knew she was too fearful to tell him now. He stood and stormed off towards the forest angrily, not wanting to explode in front of her again. Such anger, such rage he had never felt during his stay at Capellen before.

She sat in the patch of hay, scared, her heart heavy with guilt. "The ring." She whispered to herself, her lips trembling. She could not watch as he walked away.

_I must find it and show it to him. I have to regain his trust._ She stood up and walked swiftly, eventually running towards the manor house, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Back in the woods Erik attacked the nearest tree, tearing off a large, low lying branch. He smashed it to pieces against the trunk of the tree until the piece of wood split in his grasp. He threw it down, spent and leaned against the tree, frustration pouring from him like sweat, silent sobs heaving from his chest.

_How could I have acted that way towards her? I was so mad, so mad at Christine, instead I lashed out at you, My sweet Elaine. Forgive me. Forgive me my weakness as a man with pent up desires and frustrations. I have a hidden past, just waiting to jump out and strike me when I least expect it. You did not deserve it. I am not worthy of you._

With that thought he dropped to his knees and cried out loud. "What have I done?" Distress made his throat tighten; it became hard to breathe. He began tearing away at himself internally.

_I completely overreacted. I am an idiot! She is too important to lose over a little forgetfulness. I will beg her, plead with for forgiveness. I will do anything I must. She will never forgive me, I fear. _

He drew himself up painfully, wiping at his face with his shirtsleeve. He walked slowly towards the manor house, trying to think of something he could say.

Elaine's run to the manor house gave her some time to think clearly. Elaine walked onto her father's library, shaking with trepidation. She opened up the desk drawer and saw it: the ring. Both of the recent interactions with Erik, the stunning kiss and the frightful argument with Erik demonstrated to her that they both could not go on as they had. He had the sense she was holding something back, and that upset him greatly.

_Is this the right thing to do? Should I give this to him now, or wait until later? The man has a right to try everything in his power to regain his memory. This not knowing is killing him. The waiting is killing me. _

She could not blame him; he just wanted to know who he was, and what was in his memories that haunted his dreams, his waking hours. Elaine was deeply ashamed at being so selfish, and not giving him the ring sooner. It was never her duty to protect him, but that she did, from what, she did not know.

As a matter of fact, she had forgotten all about the ring they had pulled off his dislocated finger until her father reminded her about it last week. Her father knew full well that the ring might be the key to unlock the 'darkness of his mind', as Erik called it. Knowing they had become close, her father had left it up to her to decide when to give Erik the precious band of metal and stone. Her father did not know how intimate they had become.

She picked it up and stared at the trinket that could, and probably would alter her life as he knew it now. She watched the ring for a few minutes, turning the sparkling piece of jewelry around with her trembling fingers. It was so unlike what she thought Erik would give to a woman. It was a beautiful ring with a large solitaire but a bit gaudy, not unusual enough, she thought. He was too complex a man to have chosen this ring of his own accord.

_Maybe this ring was her choice, this woman he was to give the ring to. This Christine, probably. I hope she can appreciate the love of a man like Erik. She has better taste in men than in jewelry. _

A hot tear worked its way down her cheek, and she smirked at her attempt to belittle the unknown woman whose memory seemed to cause Erik so much pain. She was so afraid to let go of Erik, after all they had been through, after how much she had grown to love him. Yes, she had let herself fall. Reason had nothing to do with how one's heart works. Only actions could really be controlled. And those she was not controlling well; case in point, their recent interlude in the field.

They had not acted before on the feelings she knew was in her heart, and suspected highly was in his. She had instinctively looked past his outside appearance to see the man within. But there was so much hidden as well, the unknown that frightened her. And today, her secrets and omissions had punished her, in the form of Erik's rage. Without the knowledge of his past, he could not proceed. With his memories revealed, they may not be able to be together at all. Together, they had reached a frustrating impasse as high as the trees he loved to climb.

_Now is as good a time as any. _

"Elaine? Elaine!" She heard his voice, loud through the thin walls, a lump forming in her throat as a response.

"Please Elaine, let me speak to you." She stood still, hearing the pleading tone, so different from the voice that had just screamed at her. It was now so tender. It tugged at her depths, and in that instant she knew she would always forgive him. Breaking her paralysis, she walked quickly into the foyer just in time to see him walking up the stairs.

"I'm here, Erik." She said with more calm that she thought she could, given their recent interaction.

He turned around at the sound of her voice and he saw her, eyes full of forgiveness and tears, her expression one of guilt. He raced down the stairs but slowed to a crawl at the base. She looked into the intense pale green of his eyes, with a hint of red alongside that betrayed his sadness, his face drawn. His hair remained disheveled, her handiwork.

In two quick strides he stepped up to her and took her in his arms, lifting her as she wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, holding her desperately close.

"Please forgive me, my Lady. I am so sorry." He said softly, nesting his face against her neck.

She could not help but to return his embrace. She closed her eyes as she melted into the body against her, his breath and his face on her neck warming her. It did not stop the cold, guilty feelings from rushing in.

"Stop, Erik." She said, giving his strong shoulders one big squeeze. She was hoping it would not be the last. "Put me down."

That he did, gently on the floor, stepping back to look at her. His expression revealed how much hurt there was behind those eyes. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

"It is I who must beg for forgiveness, Erik. There is one last thing I must show you. But not here, in private." She walked up the stairs, unsteadily. His hand was crushing hers.

As he followed, a sinking sensation found its place in his chest. She walked into his room, pulling him behind her. He closed the door behind him as she walked away from him looking down at her hands. She turned back to him, her hands wrapped around each other. She was visibly uncomfortable.

"Do you want to sit?" she said, motioning to a nearby chair. He stood still and shook his head without a sound, looking at her with an intensity she could not bear to see.

She swallowed painfully and started. "That night, when we were working on you, my father found one of your injuries to be involving the of your pinkie on your left hand. This was probably the reason."

She put out her small hand for his hand. He put it out and opened it slowly, shaking.

Slowly she put a ring into his palm. It had a large solitaire, rimmed with tiny diamonds.

"If we did not remove this, you would have lost your finger, it was swelling so…"

Erik no longer heard her. His eyes were glued to the ring, sitting in his hand, just as Christine had put it in his hand, that night, in the lair.

_Oh my God. Christine._

The weight of the small ring was immense. He staggered back, open his eyes widely. A flood of memories came back, and with them the flood of emotions, knocking the breath from his body.

_Christine…that kiss, that beautiful kiss. I pushed you away, you did not want me. Why did you come back to give me this ring? Why did you do that, to torture my dying heart? You left me alone, you left with Raoul, singing. I love you, I love you… I loved you so much, so much I let you go. So alone, so much despair, such pain...Everything gone, they were after me, and they wanted to kill me. And I wanted to die._

He clutched at his chest as the memories and emotions stampeded through his brain. He turned around, away from Elaine, who was growing fearful of his reaction. She had seen that look before, the distant look of pain in his wide, green eyes.

"Erik, please, talk to me. What is it? Whose ring is this? Why are you acting so?" She walked up to him timidly, putting a hand on his back.

Still drowning in his memories, he started to babble. "The opera house… Don Juan …the lair. It was all for you, all for you… I can't take your pity. But now there is no one, I am alone. I have always been alone. I will always be alone…unloved, a loathsome, ugly devil!!!" he screamed and whipped around to see her, Christine, standing in front of him, frightened at his outburst.

He roughly grabbed her arms and started to scream at her. "Why? Why do you come back to give me that ring, Christine, to rip my heart apart more?!" He threw Christine roughly away from him.

Elaine slammed into the corner of the fireplace, ripping a gash into her arm. At that she screamed out in pain, and crumpled onto the floor. She started to cry, grabbing her arm, staring at Erik, crawling away into the corner with fear.

Erik spun around, looking at Elaine with shock and horror. He ran to her side, lifting her up in one move in his strong arms, and placed her gently on the bed. She was crying uncontrollably, pulling away from him.

"Oh no, Elaine, I didn't mean it…Oh God, I thought you were…I thought I was in…" He dropped his head, sobbing into her lap. His body shook with his sobbing, and she stopped her own crying to touch his head, fear making her hand shake. She did not know who he was, or who he would think she was anymore.

He raised his head up and looked at her with devastation on his face. It was her Erik's eyes that she was seeing.

"I hurt you. I am so sorry, may I rot in hell for it!!" He said, breaking down again when he saw the blood leaking from the gash in her arm. He kissed her arm between sobs, rubbing it gently. She put her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears.

He wrapped his arms around her hips, and held her tightly, as if he would die if he let go.

"Elaine…you must leave me now. Please go." He said, regret cutting into the air.

"Erik, no, I won't leave you. You did not do it on purpose…I forgive you." she layed her hands on his back. He let her go and lifted up his head, his eyes growing wild with anguish. Her words burned him, guilt was killing him. Gently, he held her face between his two hands and looked at her, his eyes racing over her face, as if to take in everything for the last time.

"You must go. Now! Can't you see? I cannot guarantee your safety around me. Please, for both of us, please go." he was struggling to speak as voices started to chatter within his head, and his memories tore away at his sanity.

Not waiting for her to react, he lifted her up and walked over to the door. He pushed her out with all the remaining control he could muster.

"Go now!" he growled, in a low, foreign voice. The door closed with a loud bang that echoed throughout the house.

Elaine stood in the hall, shaking to the core, her blood cold in her veins. She ran a trembling hand up her arm to where she was bleeding badly. The pain in her heart was so severe, she hardly felt the pain in her arm.

_Oh my God! What have I done?_

Inside the room, thus began the siege.


	27. Chapter 27

Chap 27

Elaine stood quaking outside the door until her unconscious movements quieted into mere tremors. She listened intently through the door, approaching it slowly, fingers touching it tenderly. She wanted so much to be with him now, instinctively she felt his pain, and his need to heal that drew her. The tears of pain and fear returned to her slowly, quietly as sadness. She heard him start to sing softly, a low, melodic song, with regret distorting his timbre. It gripped her heart and she slid down, back against his door, wrapping her arms around her legs, possessed by the deep remorse in his tones.

"Christine. Oh, Christine." Elaine heard him say softly before profound painful sobs replaced the beautiful song. Her heart broke within her and she jumped up from her position to run down the stairs. She just wanted to get away from him now, get away from the fact that he was drowning himself in the memory of another woman.

_I have lost him. I did it. Now he dwells in our house in body only, he has remembered his love for another. The pain of that love, I can see is destroying him. It will take him away from me,_ she thought, as tears distorted her vision. She ran headlong into Marjorie as she entered the kitchen.

Marjorie held a shaking, crying Elaine away from her, eyes filling with alarm. The girl was wearing men's clothes, Erik's clothes, and she could see that they were fastened with haste, haphazardly. Elaine's hair was open and wild, her face streaked with tears, old and new, stricken with fear and sadness. On her arm was the bright red stain of blood through the dirty white shirtsleeve.

Marjorie could not help but to think, to fear the worst thing possible.

"Oh my God Elaine! What happened? You are hurt…"

"Erik…" was all Elaine could whisper before bursting into tears on her shoulder.

Marjorie felt an anger rise within her, the anger of a mother lion fiercely, blindly protecting her own. "That wretched man, did he touch you? Did he…tell me…did he hurt you?"

Elaine gasped and looked at her with wide eyes; a look that Marjorie interpreted as a _Yes_. Marjorie threw her arms around Elaine and held her tight.

"Oh no, Elaine. You poor, poor girl!" Said Marjorie, mortified. She grabbed Elaine's hand and started to walk quickly with her to the doctor's office.

"Where the hell is he now? I will call the men to have him found and restrained! This is a matter for the police now, but I will condone anything the men want to do to him in the interim…" said Marjorie, anger flashing from her matronly eyes.

Elaine stopped abruptly in the hallway just outside the office, pulling her arm away from Marjorie. She had to stop this misunderstanding now.

"Marjorie, no! I was the one who started it…it was my fault. Everything!"

Marjorie walked up to her, still hot with anger. "Do not blame yourself, child, do not fall into that trap again! You did not deserve violence like that! You never did! Nothing you could have done can condone it!"

Elaine pulled Marjorie into an examination room; hoping no one had heard. She closed the door and turned on Marjorie, her eyes now clear, face serious.

"Marjorie, for gods sake, be quiet and listen to me. If you call someone and they try to hurt him now, I will never forgive you! This is not at all what you think."

"Then how do you explain these, and this?" She pulled at the clothes Elaine was wearing and pointed to her arm.

"He did touch me this day but it was with passion and I wanted him to. And I enjoyed it; let that be clear to you." Elaine paused for a second to let her words sink in. Marjorie's angry expression faded to that of confusion.

Elaine continued. "He took me climbing trees with him; that is the reason for the clothes. We kissed, we embraced, we caressed each other, that was all. But it was enough to bring back the memories of another woman. I gave him his ring back and after that, he went mad. By accident, he pushed me and I fell and cut myself. He did not hurt me on purpose, Marjorie."

"You would not lie to protect him, would you?" Marjorie looked at her with a touch of disbelief.

"No, absolutely not. I would die fighting before letting any man hurt me again. Especially a man I love." With that, Elaine covered her face and cried again. "I just realized how I have been feeling, I love him Marjorie. And now, he is languishing in the memory of another woman!"

Marjorie held her again, still uncertain. "My dear girl, I have seen your feelings for him grow for some time now. But there are things you cannot control. Him, and all that is within him are out of you control, love. Come, let us see about your arm."

In silence, Marjorie cleaned, applied a salve, and bandaged up Elaine's arm. Elaine's attention seemed elsewhere, she was constantly looking upstairs.

"Is that where he is now? He is very quiet, too quiet. Look, Elaine, I really think it best you stay away from him while he is having difficulties with his memories. You don't want any more accidents happening." Marjorie said pointedly, before leading Elaine out of the room.

"I know. I know." She said painfully, holding her arm.

Both women jumped and shook as they heard a loud scream from the second floor, the cry like a heart exploding into a thousand pieces.

Locked now in his room, the beast awoke from his long slumber, and the siege rolled on.

No longer could Erik dwell in the sweetness of ignorance. Realization of horror after horror, done to him, committed by him lashed at his mind like dull razors, painful and tearing. The world around him looked dull, barreled and distant. Dread, anger, sorrow so much sorrow ripped through his mind, halting his heart in his chest.

There were too many bad emotions for one man to stand.

Finally, he knew who he was and more importantly, he was quickly remembering all the things in his past. Initially, it was just generalities, and then particular episodes flooded him, one after the other.

He, Erik, was the freak genius child of a shamed mother who hated him. He wad captured and tortured by gypsies. He had become the mason in Italy, the magician in Russia, the advisor and assassin in Persia, the Opera Ghost in France. He was many different entities in one horrible life. It produced such a clash with the man he became, Erik of Capellen that he began to fragment within immediately. That part of him was unbelieving and horrified, bitter at the return of the memories.

He slowly put the ring on his right hand this time, staring at it, feeling the pain of abandonment again, fresh. No longer was he just seeing it, like a play in his mind, a spectator. He was within the play, the leading role in the horror.

_Why do I need to feel everything again? Couldn't I just remember the facts? Oh, God, this is too vivid, this is torture. No, I cannot take this all._

To try to stem the tide, he began to sing a soft melody, grasping at the memory that music was his refuge. It was a sad song, which brought tragic memories. He remembered his feelings for Christine, intense and gut-wrenching, but now there was endless regret.

_How could I do what I did to her? I let my egotism nearly destroy her, I nearly killed Raoul in my zeal to posses her. I could not have loved her, not really, that is not what love does. I was desperate and lonely, a wretched broken soul, ignoring all the things that make one human. She was just young and innocent, confused and scared, and easy to influence. I betrayed her. I used her. And I did not want to see, could not see that she did not love me. I did not realize that until the end. I had no right. I was filled with my need, my selfishness. _

Heavily, he breathed "Christine. Oh, Christine."

He began to sob uncontrollably falling down on the floor. He heard soft footsteps running away, down the hall.

_Elaine. My angel of mercy. Stay away, darling one, if you know what is good for you._

He stumbled around the room like a man possessed as his mind reeled.

And now, here I am. I have a newly awakened conscience, I have felt love and compassion and kindness, and have given them. I will regret everything, absolutely everything, for the rest of my life. I am damned to live the rest of my days wallowing in remorse. Oh God, death, killing…oh God, how many people have I killed, how many more have I destroyed, by my own hands or by my terrible inventions? My deadly children…

Instantly, childhood memories of sadness crowded into his mind, beating him into the ground like the many whippings he had received. He saw her, sitting by the fireplace…glaring and screaming. Throwing a mask, a white mask at his feet…

"Oh, mother, you wretch, you unloving woman. You should have taken that ugly creature to the grave before it grew into this thing! This dreadful excuse of a human!"

As the memories played in his mind's eye, even his brilliant mind could not keep up. He was drowning. He could not close his eyes tight enough to keep the memories away.

He looked around at the familiar surroundings of his room in the manor house. For a sweet moment he let the beautiful experiences of his time in Capellen flood him. He had been happier here than any other time in his past. Those memories retreated as quickly as they had come, leaving emptiness and longing.

_I don't belong here. I am a snake in the nest of a dove. A demon among angels. I must leave before I hurt someone…again. No hiding anymore, no longer can I relax in a place of comfort. I know my wretched past. I know what I am._

He screamed a loud deep cry that was heard even outside the manor house.

Reality was getting hard to discern from vision. He stood up, trying to focus. He made his way to the door after grabbing a thick, dark cloak from his closet. Opening the door, assuring that no one was around, he then rushed down the stairs. As he stumbled out of the door, the fleeting image of Dr. Dyson appeared before his eyes momentarily. Imagining or reality, he did not pause long enough to find out. He looked to the direction of the spectre briefly, with confusion, then continued on, passing it swiftly. Then he started to run. With great speed he began to run through the fields then to the edge of the woods. He struggled to concentrate, to define his bewildering emotions but the only emotion he could cling onto tightly at the moment was anger. He held onto it, and was consumed by it. At least it was effective in bringing him back to reality.

Erik stormed through the forest, eyes blazing skin hot with anger, sheer unadulterated anger. This ire was what most of most of the experiences in his life left him with, anger, hatred, bitterness. He stormed about and threw things, heaved rocks larger than he would have ever thought possible and pounded the pulp out of anything that would yield. He found and axe and took out his frustrations on at least 30 young trees, until his hands were bleeding and his arms shook with the effort. His destructive wake looked as if a small tornado had torn through that patch of forest.

_God help any living breathing thing, man or beast that happens on me now. _

Long after his arms recovered his hands still shook uncontrollably. He wanted to hurt something, kill something. He had unleashed it, but now, he would try anything to just stop this sinister rage from eating him alive. A lasso around the throat, his hands strangling, a dagger fining its place through flesh, spilling blood; a fine killing was calling him like a siren. It was mocking his regret. Right now, ripping and tearing into the flesh of something screaming was sounding good and he could not stand to feel that way. Repeatedly he screamed until his ragged, bleeding throat would no longer produce noise audible by human ears.

He wanted to turn the anger into something productive, but was too blinded to know exactly how. Instead, he ran through the underbrush at breakneck speed, the pain of low branches lashing into his flesh only temporarily pulling him away from the unrelenting fury. He tripped and rolled, breathing heavily at the fall, his aching body forcing him to be still. He cried with frustration, wishing upon wish that he had some opium, laudanum, morphine, a gallon of liquor or even the devilish hashish to dull the piercing emotions.

_How easily the desire for my vices return to me now…_

The red haze in his brain started to clear. Slowly, more structured thoughts crawled into his mind.

_Anger, so much anger at the multitudes that laughed and pointed, screamed at me in horror calling me animal, monster, devil, and demon. They were to blame! I know that now. All those, from my unloving mother, to the men who kept me caged, to the people who connived against me and attacked me because I was ugly, different, and inhumanly intelligent. Developing without love to guide me from a young age, the distinction between good and bad had no meaning for me. All that mattered was survival. Yes, somehow, this thing survived. _

Unwittingly, those wretches taught me this: that I needed to be a brutal, thieving, murdering monster in order to survive. I began to hate all of the members of so-called humanity, with very few exceptions. I felt that that I was outside, above their putrid lives. When the lives of others became unimportant their murders came easily. The power of mortal combat, the power of the ability to kill at will, almost anyone. That power was my release; revenge was my drug, so intoxicating. Strangling the breath from men satisfied a need with in me; revenge, dark justice. Ah, but I did have some scruples; there is a crime I could never commit: I could never take a woman forcefully. I refuse to violate that which is so precious, when given freely. Not that any woman would give that gift to me…until, maybe now. But that dream is gone.

I suppose that my conscience developed, after all, despite all the hatred within my soul. A few good people actually helped me out of pity, admiration, or a genuine, unimaginable fondness of this horrific being I am. I just ignored my conscience for the most part, I did not let something like guilt get in my way. That is, until I came here, and realized I could love again. And regret again. Damned in love am I.

My wretched, terrible soul was not spared the need for love. In love I found pain worse than any physical torture I had ever experienced. I have died at the hands of love and desire. I had the ability to love deeply, completely, but alas, no woman would find it in themselves to love me in return. I was cursed with the skin and organs of man, longing for the feel of a woman. No woman would even touch me, kiss me unless coerced like Christine, until I was someone else and Elaine allowed me to experience a few divine moments. I can only imagine the full beauty of love in her arms, I have only tasted from the cup. I will never know that kind of beauty again. What I have had will leave me with an insatiable thirst for the rest of my days…

If I actually stop to think of the things I did, am capable of doing. I always come to one answer: I should be severely punished for crimes, regardless of why I did them. In the end it was me who tied the noose, drove in the blade, caused pain and destruction. I should not be allowed to live, but I am the only one capable of ending my own existence. And that I will not do. That may change.

Something intangible had always stayed Erik from taking his own life. Fear of eternal damnation? He did not really believe in an afterlife, but maybe he was not willing to make that miscalculation. Maybe he thought he was now already in hell. Or maybe it was the desperate, distant, faint light of hope that still burned in his soul.

In the sweet cradle that was Capellen, the love and acceptance he was shown had made him become a different person, yet the same. He reflected the compassion he had been shown, and impressed those around him with his intellect and gifts of music. He had developed a personality capable of drawing the attention of a fantastic lady, whose unique ability to look within allowed her to actually become attracted to him. There was the hope of a rewarding, mutual love, in those precious few weeks. A hope now gone.

_The gift that Elaine posses to see past my external imperfections will now see into the true depravity of my soul, as if barrel of filth was poured into me, with the return of these putrid memories. I remember, therefore I now am that horrible person once again. And once again, I am out of the grasp of the possibility of love. What a terrible, cruel twist of fate. I guess existentially, I deserve my punishment._

He lay back flat on the floor of the forest, feeling the canopy pulling up and away, feeling that the floor had vanished and the earth had opened up to swallow him whole. Voices started to chatter in his head again, drowning all thoughts of sanity. Low, horrible voices within began to rebuke him:

_"He will not go down easily, you know, there is still so much killing to do!" _

"Leave the man alone, he already has a pyre in hell with his name. The devil is waiting"

"What's a few more logs? Pile up the bodies!"

"The idiot should have just raped the little wench; he is strong enough to hold her down…"

"Oh poor, poor me. Ugh. All this remorse is making me ill. This self-reflection is so tiring and droll."

"And ridiculous coming from the Angel of Death. Just embrace it; you are a murderer."

"Remember, you used to sleep in a coffin. Welcome back to your true self, demon!!"

Erik sat up and screamed. "NO! NO! That is not my true self. That is not what I am!!" a strange sinking sensation found root in his chest. "Or is it?"

_Shut down, Erik. _

He heard it, the voice of reason within himself, a loud and booming staccato, over all the rest.

"What?" He said, looking around as if talking to another person. There was no one else around him in the dark, shadowy woods.

_Your demon voices are too strong, Erik. Shut down. Shut them out. Shut everything out right now. It is your only chance._

"How?" He asked the voice.

Back in Capellen manor, Elaine lay in her bed upstairs, holding her sleeping son in her arms. As she looked towards the window to the forest beyond, tears ran from her eyes.

Marjorie sat at the kitchen table across from Nate over tea and uneaten pastries, looking at each other without words, both filled with worry.

Dr. Dyson stood alone in his office leaning against the frame of the window, rubbing his chin, face drawn with concern. He sighed for the umpteenth time, heart heavy, staring out towards the forest where he had seen Erik run to, two days ago now.

They were afraid of what had happened, but uncertain of what to do.

Alone in the forest, Erik sat in the center of a patch of destroyed trees, wrapped in his cloak. He was rocking, staring into nothingness, face strangely stripped of emotion.

He was deep in the cold silence of catatonia.


End file.
